


Pain Betrays Where the Shadows Lie

by brohne, Haethel



Series: The Corsair and the Corsetteer [11]
Category: Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Gore, Illnesses, Injury Recovery, M/M, PTSD RECOVERY, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 109,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brohne/pseuds/brohne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haethel/pseuds/Haethel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovery can be a long process and is not always painless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the third installment of the Corsair and the Corsetteer. If you've not read the previous novels _Let the Thief Steal No Longer_ and _Fight Like a Man or Hang Like a Dog_ and the novella by Haethel _Fighting the Last War_ along with the various shorts I recommend doing so before starting this. ^^ Also thank you to Haethel and Time-Squid for their continuing support and for beta-reading and editing for me.

Madam Xiao Xiao stood looking at the dimly lit ancient library. The stench of the sewer wasn’t as strong here though it lingered in the air like the gossamer webs she brushed out of her way. The air itself was cool but not unpleasantly so.

“Are you certain this is what you are looking for?” She turned to look at the woman beside her. She clearly remembered the prim matron who’d threatened her in her own office those months ago. The charcoal grey dress was the same but this time there was a touch of color to her cheeks, the dark hair loosely gathered in a messy bun. She might have been pretty if not for the cold calculating gaze.

“Yes. This is the old library.” Valériane ran gloved fingers along the bookshelf and looked at the smudge of dust. “My Master will be pleased. My mission is nearly complete. Can you guarantee us exclusive access?”

Madam Xiao Xiao looked around the dank space. “I highly doubt there will be much competition. As long as you keep me informed of anything interesting you find I’ll make sure it remains secret.”

“I can accept that because if you talk I’ll slit your throat.”

****  
  


Snow slanted through the air, driven by the chill northern wind. Garrett shivered, pulling the heavy woolen cloak Adrian had given him tighter around himself as he carefully made his way across the thieves’ highway heading for Baron’s Way South. There were few patrols out tonight and the single miserable Watch guard he’d seen had been huddled over a sputtering brazier. He needed to get back to Auldale before Adrian woke up to get ready for his shift. He touched his pocket where the small metal sphere rested. It had taken him nearly five days of scouring the clock tower from top to bottom but he’d found the mechanical eye. A small pang made his chest ache as he remembered lying to Adrian about why he’d refused to leave the clock tower. It was the longest they’d been out of arm’s reach of each other since being rescued by Aldric and the others.

His foot slid on an icy board and he stiffened, throwing his arms out to balance himself on the narrow walkway. This really was not the weather to be out in and he couldn’t wait to crawl into a warm bed. The stay in the clock tower had been miserable and cold and very nearly disastrous. He had been glad to see that Adrian had taken advantage of the ropes he’d rigged up for him, though waking up to find the cloak, books and food had driven the spike of guilt about lying even deeper. He didn’t deserve the kindness—he never had.

He inched forward. The wind had scoured the snow from the wood but left a thin sheen of ice. Maybe it would be safer to head down to street level. He really didn’t need to get injured this soon after getting home. Finding a crate he jumped down and then climbed to street level. His fingers were numb and stiff and he rubbed them together to get some feeling into them. The gate to the Auldale bridge wasn’t that much further and there was no one on the street this early of a morning. Securing the hood of the cloak with one hand he started off again.

The wind had died down by the time he reached the gate but it was snowing harder. Garrett paused at the gate, peering at the alcoves where the statues used to rest. Someone had replaced them with something taller and a bit more menacing. Leaving the gate Garrett walked over to one, the pale morning light just barely enough to make out the details. It stood taller than he did and looked more like those old suits of armor the Baron had been so fond of, which was an interesting change from the bearded old men who had graced the alcoves.

“Changing of the guard, huh? Best hope you don’t end up like the ones at the Keep.” The hollows where its eyes should be stared back at him, unblinking. He stifled a yawn and hunched his shoulders. It was too cold to be admiring the scenery. Slipping through the gate he headed for the ruined Auldale bridge. It looked nothing like he remembered, not even from that night he’d raced across it just barely escaping with his life. All the buildings were gone; all that was left were the stone piers jutting up from the river like broken teeth. The new construction was already under way, and scaffolding sat on the starlings surrounding the broken piers. He stood on Market Street looking down at the river below. The stones under his feet were broken and charred in places. Basso had brought him across the river last time, but he knew his friend wouldn’t be too keen on his going back.

“Look what he’s cost you, Garrett! You’re nothing but skin and bones. The Queen of Beggars could knock you down.”

Nothing he’d said had pacified his fence. As far as Basso was concerned Adrian could go rot. Shaking off the memories he looked for a way across; he couldn’t stand here waiting for daylight. The stones were wet and slick and climbing down to the starlings felt like a bad idea. Once he got down he didn’t see a way across the water to the next starling. Stepping back away from the edge he looked across the gap. There, a wooden bridge much like the ones he often used on the thieves’ highway had been pulled up and secured. It was a simple matter to use an arrow to release it.

The bitter wind threatened to rip him off the slick wood as he slowly crossed the timbers. Reaching the other side he found a similar contraption. He made it to the middle of the river where the drawbridge used to be. There was no convenient wooden bridge here, just sections of scaffolding that rose twenty feet up from the starlings, swaying and creaking with each gust of wind. There was a matching set across the stretch of water, just barely visible through the snow as dark lines against the grey. The wood of the scaffolding was icy and climbing the two ten-foot sections took all his concentration.

Blinking snowflakes out of his eyes Garrett heaved himself up onto the topmost section of the scaffolding. He clutched at the slick narrow railing, struggling to catch his breath as the air burned in his lungs. His legs and arms were numb with the strain of the climb and he had to resist the urge to sit down. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again if he did. Beneath his feet the whole frame trembled and shifted with his weight. Taking out a rope arrow he notched it and scanned the other side for a suitable target. The stone pier itself was out of the question but the timbers supporting the scaffolding were banded in spots with metal and secured to the stone. Those would be able to support his weight. Taking careful aim and adjusting for the wind he shot his arrow. It disappeared into the swirling snow and he strained to hear the familiar thud of the tip anchoring into wood. There was a flash of sparks and then a distant muffled clatter as the arrow ricocheted and fell.

“Can’t do that again,” Garrett muttered as he notched another arrow. He grimaced as his arms shook with the strain. The wind buffeted him relentlessly, whipping the cloak around his legs and threatening to entangle him. Taking a breath he made a decision and gathered himself, focusing. Blue and grey overlaid everything but one spot glowed a brighter blue. Letting out the breath he’d been holding he lowered the bow. He’d not noticed the large crane looming overhead, the snow almost obscuring it from view. Its twin was just visible on the other side. The arms pointed toward each other but weren’t long enough to touch, a gap of what looked like ten feet separating them. Looking at them he did some rapid calculations as he fingered the rope at his side. The crane looked to be the only way across unless he wanted to wait and see if anyone showed up to work. Though they would probably be rather upset he was here in the first place.

It took him several tense minutes to scale the crane. The wet wood and wind combined made climbing difficult at best. Once he reached the arm he flattened himself against the ice-coated wood and looked across to the other crane. It was further than it had looked from the ground but a rope arrow would still reach easily. Of more concern at the moment was just staying on the arm. The wind tugged at him, loosening his grip on the slick wood. He needed to do this quickly. The longer he was exposed the harder it became to make his fingers work.

“This bridge will be the death of me.”

Wrapping his legs around the arm he pushed himself up and brought his bow around again. He’d just notched an arrow when a particularly fierce gust of wind grabbed his cloak. He was forced to drop back down to clutch the wood before it dragged him off the crane, nearly dropping his bow and the arrow. Fingers trembling from more than just the cold Garrett reached up and unbuttoned the cloak. A gust of wind ripped the hood back and sent stinging snowflakes across his exposed skin. He pulled the cloak free and tried to gather it up only to have the wind rip it from his hands. He lay on the crane watching the dark shape drift into the depths below.

He had to move. Now. Sitting up, he quickly tied the end of the rope to his harness, ignoring the way his whole body shook and the creeping exhaustion that blurred his vision. He notched the arrow and let it fly. The tip sank deep into the wood of the crane opposite, the rope spooling out behind. He gave it a quick jerk to make sure it was seated, put his bow away and inched his way to the end of the arm. Not giving himself a moment to think about what he was doing or what Adrian might have to say about it he stood and jumped. The rope jerked taut as he swung out over the water, the base of the crane suddenly looming toward him out of the snow.  He hit hard enough to knock the wind out of him and scrabbled to keep hold of the wood before the momentum of his swing tore him loose. Fingers stiff and aching he pulled the rope free of his harness and let the wind catch it.

The scaffolding barely shifted as he landed on the planks. Someone had done a better job setting this side up. He was thankful to see that there were no more cranes, just simple wooden bridges the rest of the way across. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than swimming.

 

The cobblestones were covered with snow that reached his ankles by the time Garrett reached August’s house. The lantern out front glowed a pale yellow, snowflakes dancing through the circle of light. He skirted the lit areas and made his way to the rear of the house. This was the first he’d returned since he decided to look for the eye. He wondered if Adrian was still upset with him for refusing to come back. He’d clearly felt the hurt and dismay through the Primal and it had very nearly quashed his resolve not to tell Adrian about the eye until he was certain it would work. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t get Adrian’s hopes up right now with the wound still so fresh.

Working open the window into the scullery, Garrett let himself into the house. His snow slicked feet slid on the tile as he made sure the window was once again secure. The warmth was nearly stifling.

“By the Maker! You need to stop doing that, Master Garrett. The door is right through the hall there.”

Garrett turned to see Elsie, the maid, at the kitchen sink with a tray of dirty dishes. She frowned at him and set the tray down. “And look at you, sopping wet and getting muck all over my clean floor! You look froze through and through.”

She grabbed a towel off the table and flapped it at him. “How do you manage to go sneaking around when you leave wet muddy little footprints everywhere?”

Garrett took the offered towel and wiped off his feet. “Not Master. Just Garrett, Elsie.”

She smiled at him and shook her head, the mobcap bouncing with the motion. “Oh no you don’t, you’re Master same as the rest. I know what you done to save this miserable town and people like me. Now, go get you changed, and I’ll have tea and scones for you in just a bit. You need to go get warmed up or Master Adrian will have a fit seeing you looking like an icicle in a corset.”

“It’s not a corset.” Garrett dropped the towel on the floor and used his foot to clean the tile.

“Well anyway, I’ve got to get back to work, lots to get done today before the big to-do tonight.”

“What’s going on?”

“Wintertide already passed but everyone is home and Master August wants a family dinner along with Lord De la Fontaine and Miss Fauvre and that Basso fellow.”

“August invited Basso?”

“Oh yes, he and Master August are often in meetings since you lot left. Basso knows most everything that happens in the City and with Master August being in charge of the Watch he needed some help.”

“Well, hopefully things go better this time.” Garrett picked up the now soaked and filthy towel and tossed it in the basket along with the other dirty linens.

“Oh yes, I’m sure they will. Basso seemed pleased with Master Adrian’s apology. Did you like those cakes I made?”

Garrett frowned at her. Did the woman know every little detail of what went on? “I did.”

“Good. Master Adrian was hoping so. He’s been rather morose these last few days.” Elsie finished piling the dishes and started gathering items for making tea. “Master August is hoping that seeing everyone will cheer him up, but I think he’ll be most happy to see you. You go get cleaned up and I’ll have your tea ready.”

Garrett nodded and started for the door that lead to the hallway. He headed down the hall, the soft rug underfoot a startling change after days of cold wood and stone. The temptation to put out the candles and snuff the sconces was pushed aside. Elsie and Reginald worked hard enough as it was without him adding to it. He wasn’t here to steal and didn’t need to hide. Not here, not anymore. A chill ran through him and knotted his stomach and he refused to think about the pleading look Adrian had given him the last time he’d seen him. Nearly four days ago. It felt much longer. Though he knew Adrian had returned at some point; the woolen cloak, stack of books and bundle of cakes were testament to that. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain losing the cloak.

Walking up the stairs he avoided the one that tended to squeak and paused on the landing. Adrian’s room was at the far end. He forced himself to take a deeper breath and started down the hall. The door to Adrian’s room opened and Garrett froze seeing the Watch Captain’s uniform, his first instinct to dart for the nearest door. He knew it was Adrian—he knew, and yet his heart still raced. Adrian paused, still in the process of closing the door behind him.

“Garrett.”

The tone was neutral, though the spike of something raw and potent in the Primal belied his seeming calm. Adrian shut the door but didn’t move toward him. The leather eye patch covered less of the scar on his cheek than the bandages had.

“I have to go to work. Will you be here later?”

“Yes.”

Adrian started to smile and the tension Garrett could feel eased, but the smile never fully materialized.

“I’ll see you later then. Get some rest and stay out of Amaury’s way.”

Garrett watched Adrian head down the main flight of stairs that led to the foyer. He followed a few steps behind, used to making sure Adrian didn’t trip going up and down them. Garrett stopped at the landing above to watch as Adrian made it safely to the bottom and took his helmet off the coat rack. He waited to see if Adrian would look back, something within him willing it to happen. It didn’t. The front door shut, leaving Garrett standing at the top of the landing wondering why his chest hurt.

****  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Haethel for helping fact check and edit this chapter.

Snow swirled past like a thin gauze curtain, revealing glimpses of the ruined Auldale bridge as the ferry glided past. Muffled shouts and the clang of hammers reached them. Adrian shook his head and shivered as snowflakes found their way down his collar to his neck. A person would have to be insane or desperate for money to risk being on the scaffolding in this kind of weather. The Watch-run ferry let him off along with the few other passengers. The two red nosed and shivering guardsmen stationed at the dock saluted him as he passed.

Taking a set of steps up to street level he glanced back across the river. He couldn’t see August’s house for the snow. It was probably for the best. The urge to turn back was powerful as an undertow but he resolutely turned away and trudged down Market Street. He would content himself with the knowledge that Garrett was home and safe. He just had to get through this shift and he could go home.

Market Street was never going to look the same. So many of the buildings were nothing but burnt-out shells now, like the bridge, casualties of the Graven hysteria. What was the point of destroying the very city you wanted to control? He still wondered what might have happened if he’d stayed at the Keep instead of being sent to Eastwick’s. There was a good chance he’d have died along with everyone else. He’d been frustrated at first to be given the assignment of patrolling the upper floor balcony but then everything went to shit when they finally broke the door open.

He shook himself and started down the street, the snow muffling his footsteps. He didn’t look up at the crumbling ruins of the former shops and apartments. Some were in the process of being torn down though he doubted anything new would be built in their place before summer. So many buildings sat empty now, even in Auldale and Dayport. Abandoned by the fearful like Eastwick’s wife. Overfed rats trying to escape a sinking ship.

The snow was finally tapering off as he reached Clock Tower Plaza though he sank to his ankles with every step. Taking out his set of keys he unlocked the Watch Council Office. The air inside was only fractionally warmer, his breath still fogging in front of him.

“Damn. Where is everyone?”

Adrian stamped the snow off his boots and decided against taking his coat off for the moment. Checking the furnace below he found the pilot light extinguished. After a few tries it lit and he headed back upstairs, taking more care this time. For some reason going up stairs caused him more problems than going down, but he was slowly getting better at it. He missed having Garrett’s featherlight touch at his side or arm to guide him, but August was right. He had to learn to cope on his own and to let go. He’d been surprised to see Garrett in the hall as he’d been leaving. Part of him had wondered if the time had come when Garrett disappeared from his life altogether.

The pile of posters had finally been cleaned away. He hoped they’d been used for kindling. Though he wondered where they’d got a drawing that was so close to Garrett’s likeness. As far as he knew Garrett never showed his face to anyone. At least they were gone now.

Through the frost-covered windows he could just make out the clock tower across the square. The little knot of worry wouldn’t go away even though he knew Garrett was at August’s now. He needed to get to work; the desk was piled with files and papers. It was depressing to read through the reports and requisitions knowing there was nothing he could do about most of it. There simply weren’t enough Watch guards left and the Graven had slaughtered all the administrators.

He ran his left hip into the corner of the desk and staggered back with a yelp. Rubbing the sore spot he carefully worked his way around the desk and sat in the chair. It would probably be best to bury himself in paperwork and try not to think. He’d avoided thinking at home by drinking but August didn’t like him doing that.

He made it through the first couple of reports when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Maybe he wasn’t going to be the only person to show up for work today. He was surprised to see Captain Leonard round the corner. Leonard seemed surprised as well, stopping in his tracks. He glanced around the room.

“I didn’t realize you’d been assigned here.” Leonard took off his helmet and sat it on the chair below the window. He pulled up another one and sat facing Adrian.

“Just until things are settled.” Adrian picked up a pile of papers and set them to the side.

Leonard grunted. “Settled. Right. Have you looked at the roster? We’ve got less than three hundred men to maintain order in the whole City and no way to pay them.”

“And no one to process the new applications either.” Adrian tapped one of the stacks. “I either need to hire a secretary or we need to do something different.”

“People are desperate for jobs. Even more desperate than they were during the Gloom sickness.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to allow just anyone to join the ranks. Not like Harlan.”

“I wish you luck with that because until we can pay the men we’ve got we cannot hire anyone else.”

“I’ll talk to August about that. Perhaps Ambrose will see fit to give the City a loan until we find a way to fund the Watch again.”

“Right, though I think for now just offering a hot meal twice a day, with something other than rotten meat in it, would be enough. I’m having to post guards just to keep workers from beating each other to death over the job postings we do have.”

“Well … at least the death reports are much lower than I expected.”

“They’ll go right up again with this weather, and Adrian … the City is going to fall apart from the inside. We cannot afford any more mass casualties. The foundry is full of the dead and we can’t burn them fast enough.”

Adrian leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window. “I know. Just give me some time to come up with a workable plan. I promise you we will not let this City become a ruin.”

He’d rebuild the whole damn City himself if he had to. This was Garrett’s home, the place he felt the safest, and Adrian was not going to let him lose that.

“Also,” Leonard went on, drawing Adrian’s attention away from the clock tower, “we are behind schedule for installing the new sentries.”

“Oh yes, I saw Ector’s note about that. What is that all about? Who implemented this?”

“Ambrose did while you were away. He feels the City needs some sort of defense in case the rumors about Blackbrook’s army are true.”

“And with us being so few—I still think it’s a bad idea to put in machines to do a man’s job.”

“I agree, but that’s something you’ll have to take up with your father.”

“I’ll be seeing him later this week; maybe I’ll mention it to him. From what I’ve seen of the sentries they are only capable of monitoring the gates. If anyone does attack I suppose they are not capable of defense?”

Leonard shrugged and got to his feet. “Not that I’m aware of. I need to be going. For what it’s worth … I’m glad you took care of Harlan.”

Adrian spent the rest of the day doing his best to forget about the way Garrett had looked standing in the hallway. Terrified was the word that kept coming to mind. Had it been the uniform? Garrett knew he was back at work, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Yet … he couldn’t stop seeing the panic in Garrett’s eyes or the way he’d looked ready to run if Adrian moved wrong. Shoving away the memory he focused on working his way through the piles of applications. Most went into the trash. If the City was going to recover he couldn’t hire thugs who would rather oppress than help the already fragile population. Though he was quickly running out of options.

He was so engrossed in going through some of the ledgers that he didn’t realize anyone else was in the room until they cleared their throat. He jerked his head up and frowned. The man stood to the left, in his blind spot. Adrian didn’t recognize him. The clothing was the same as that worn by many of the men he often saw on the street: stained vest, patched overcoat and a scarf that might have been red once but the color was anyone’s guess now. Unlike them this man had none of the defeated air. There was something almost defiant about the way he stood there, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Yes?”

“You the new Captain?”

“For Stonemarket, yes.” Adrian shifted back in his chair, not entirely certain why unease was prickling along his spine. He didn’t offer his hand. “Adrian Barbeaux, and you are?”

“We’ll get to that.” The man looked around the office and then gestured out the window. “I notice you’ve not been hanging anyone.”

“My men are better put to use doing meaningful work like overseeing the rebuilding of the Auldale bridge rather than chasing starving street rats.”

“Of course.” He nodded and scratched at his beard. Adrian watched him closely as the man sat in the chair Leonard had used. There was a wary alertness about him that made Adrian think of Garrett, that and the scar down the man’s right cheek. Any seeming resemblance ended there. The deep-set seaweed brown eyes watched him intently. “Seems to me you’re a bit short handed.”

“We are. Your point?”

“I might be able to help you with that.”

Adrian sat forward, leaning his elbows on the desk as he peered at the man. Why did he have the feeling he was in deep water being circled by a shark?

“You willing to sign up?”

The chuckle was almost a snicker. “No, but I can offer you my cooperation.”

“Cooperation? In exchange for … “

“Well, lots of things. You see, I had what you could call a working relationship with Harlan. I took care of certain things for him in South Quarter, including watching the docks. He didn’t bother me or my boys and I let him have a share of the profits.”

“Does this have anything to do with his ‘Black Tax’?”

Again that snide laugh. “That would be it.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to help you. Now that he’s dead there is no one to collect.”

“Easily remedied, I can—”

“You misunderstand. I am not interested. You may go.”

The smile was sharp and predatory. “Right, sorry to have disturbed you then. I’ll let you get back to trying to decipher those applications.”

He stood and started for the stairs before turning back to look at Adrian. “I could save you a lot of work and you’d get experienced men without any money out of your pocket. Just think on it, Captain.”

Adrian sat staring out the window for quite some time after he left. It bothered him that the man had never given his name. Who was he that he wouldn’t introduce himself? The offer was unexpected but he supposed it shouldn’t have been. He knew the Thief-Taker General had been corrupt. Most of the Watch had been as well, but he hadn’t thought it had gone as far as colluding with criminals. Though he couldn’t say much; the infamous Master Thief was probably home asleep in his bed right now. But that was different. Garrett didn’t actively hurt people for a profit. A stolen trinket here or there wasn’t the same as extortion.

He needed to find the archives. He refused to believe that Harlan hadn’t kept any record of who paid what. He was more curious than ever what exactly Thaddeus Harlan had been doing and where all the money had gone. He had a feeling that if he could find it, funding the Watch would no longer be an issue.


	3. Chapter 3

Basso handed his overcoat to the dour-looking man who had opened the door for him.

“This way please, sir. The other guests are having some light refreshments in the parlor.”

“Right. Lead on then, Reginald.” Basso followed the butler around the corner to the first door on the left. While he’d met with August a few times they’d mostly corresponded by post, neither of them willing to make public their involvement with the other.

“Basso, good of you to come.” August met him at the door to the parlor. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Never been known to refuse one.” Basso nodded as he looked around the room. No Garrett. Or Adrian for that matter. He did recognize Aldric’s massive bulk sitting in one of the chairs near the window. The odd thin woman, Valériane, was speaking with him while Lord de la Fontaine stood nearby.

“Adrian’s not made it home from work just yet. How are the roads?” August asked as he poured the wine.

“A bit wet but passable. Where is Garrett?”

August’s smile was a bit pained. “Still asleep, I wager. Elsie informed me that he came back just as Adrian was leaving for work. To be honest, I didn’t expect him to return.”

Basso grunted and took the glass of wine. He didn’t say anything, instead taking a long gulp.

August adjusted his glasses, not meeting Basso’s gaze, and went on. “Adrian is managing on his own now. For the most part. What—whatever happened to them out there, it’s changed them both and made them reliant on each other.”

Basso downed the rest of the glass and belched. “It would be best for them both to go back to being self-reliant.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Amaury’s smile had a sharp edge to it as he walked up to them.

Basso saw the look August gave his brother and wondered what had him bothered.

“I never said they shouldn’t be self-reliant. I didn’t see you offering to help Adrian the first couple of weeks.”

Amaury shook his head. “It wouldn’t be taking him so long to quit fumbling around if you and Aldric would stop babying him and get rid of that little bastard.”

“Or maybe if you were more supportive and less of a jerk,” August snapped. “Enjoy your wine, Basso. I need to see where Elsie is with dinner.”

Basso watched him go before turning to Amaury. “Little bastard?”

Amaury sneered. “Oh right, I forgot. The two of you are friends, or cohorts, or whatever.”

“Business partners, actually.” Basso looked down at his now empty glass. “Or were. Not sure anymore.”

Amaury shrugged and turned away as August announced dinner from the doorway. “Do us all a favor and take him home when you leave.”

Basso raised an eyebrow but Amaury was already headed to the dining room.

“Gladly,” he muttered as he followed the group.

The dining room was plenty large enough to fit them all but felt small with everyone milling around trying to figure out where to sit. August shifted things around so that two chairs were left empty nearest the door. Presumably for Garrett and Adrian should either of them turn up in time.

They were nearly through the first course when Basso heard the front door open and shut, and then the heavy tread of booted feet.

“Did I miss dinner?”

Basso clenched his jaw and let his fork drop back in his plate at the sound of Adrian’s voice.

“No. Wash up and come join us.” August told him.

“Alright, be back shortly.”

Basso found himself regretting the decision to come tonight. As concerned as he was about Garrett, having to deal with Adrian and his brothers almost wasn’t worth it. Picking up his fork again he focused on finishing the deviled eggs. He’d eat and leave. He’d tell August about the rumors later.

“Here, you can have this seat.”

Basso looked over, startled to see Garrett next to Adrian. It still chilled him to the core to see how much Garrett had changed. He didn’t regret decking Adrian when they’d first docked. The one thing he’d asked Adrian to do was watch after Garrett. If he’d thought Garrett had looked unwell the first time he’d seen him after the accident it was nothing compared to the way he looked when they brought him off the ship. He hadn’t even been able to walk on his own. Even now he was a pale shadow of himself.

Basso might have been the one to give Garrett the job in the first place but nothing that had happened since then had been his fault. He still didn’t understand what had possessed Garrett to try to steal back that blasted sword.

Garrett sat across from him, next to Adrian. Basso felt a sting of resentment. Garrett had never relied on him the way he relied on Adrian. Sure they’d been through a lot together and he knew Garrett would risk life and limb for him, but he was beginning to feel as though things were never going to be the same.

The main course was served. Basso was slightly surprised to find it was nothing more than a stew with bread rolls. August gave them an apologetic smile.

“I’d hoped to have something a bit nicer for dinner but goods are still a bit difficult to come by. We were fortunate Reginald knows one of the few butchers still living in the City and got us a cut of venison.”

“Anything is better than sloop.”

There was a collective shudder and murmurs of agreement.

“I’d rather eat salted fish and hard tack the rest of my life than eat that shit again,” Adrian remarked as he reached to his left to pull the basket of rolls toward himself. His elbow knocked over his glass of wine, spilling it across the table and into his lap.

“Oh bloody hell. Sorry, August.”

“Don’t worry about it; there is plenty of wine.” August and Lord de la Fontaine were both on their feet and moving to help Adrian. “No, don’t bother with it, Adrian. Let’s go get your uniform cleaned up. Elsie, I need you in here.”

Garrett had started to get to his feet when August waved him back. “You, eat. We’ll be right back.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as Elsie cleaned up the spill. Aldric finally cleared his throat. “Go ahead and eat. No reason to wait on them.”

Basso peered around the table, noting how everyone suddenly seemed very intent on their food. No one except Amaury met his gaze. Amaury turned to watch as Garrett fiddled with his spoon.

“Has he always been this good at ruining lives, Basso?”

“Huh? What?” Basso dribbled stew down his chin, startled by the question.

“Your so-called Master Thief here.”

“Not now, Amaury.”

Aldric’s low rumble went unheeded as Amaury shook his head and pushed his chair back from the table. Basso looked over at Valériane who shrugged and took another roll. Amaury gestured to Garrett.

“I’ve not seen anything remarkable about him, except his ability to manipulate Adrian. I was hoping we were shot of the little prick.”

“Now hold on, Garrett’s not done anything. Adrian’s the one who dragged him out of the City and let him nearly kill himself over some stupid relics.”

“Basso, Adrian didn’t—”

“Don’t you go defending him, Garrett. From that first night he’s done nothing but cause trouble.”

“Adrian was just doing his job.” Amaury got to his feet.

“Sit down; we’ve not even finished dinner.”

“Like hell I’m going to sit and eat in the same room as him! We’re home now, not stuck on the bloody ship and I want him out of this house.”

“Amaury please, there is no need to ruin dinner. Sit down and eat or you’ll upset August.”

“Dinner? He’s ruined our lives! Mother is dead, Adrian is half blind, we lost the two best crews in the fleet and you are still taking his side!”

“None of that was Garrett’s fault.” Basso glanced over at Garrett who had gone very still.

“Adrian would never have left his post at the Watch or gone against Mother if he wasn’t so besotted with this dollymop.”

“Amaury!”

“That’s a load of burrick shit. I was there. I saw what happened at Baron Northcrest’s. She tried to kill both of them.”

“Which would never have happened if not for Garrett.” Amaury snarled and shoved Adrian’s chair back into the wall. Garrett leapt to his feet and backed away from Amaury. He seized Lord de la Fontaine’s chair and thrust it between them. Basso stepped in front of Garrett, grabbing his arm and jerking him around behind himself. Seeing the look in Amaury’s eyes Basso wished for a weapon and a better shield than a wooden chair.

They all froze at a crash from the hall and a furious yell. Adrian burst through the door and charged at Amaury. He yelped as he nearly fell headlong over Garrett’s abandoned chair. Obscenities filled the air and Adrian grabbed up the chair. Amaury shouted and tried to move out of the way as Adrian raised the chair to hit him.

There was a blinding flash. Basso stumbled back a step, blinking to try and clear his vision. Amaury was just staggering to his feet, the chair lying on its side next to him.

“Fucking hell, he did it again.”

“Amaury, you idiot.” August stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he glowered. “What the hell was that?”

Basso turned in a circle trying to get his bearings. Adrian and Garrett had both vanished.

“Seems Garrett felt a bit threatened.” Valériane still sat at the table, calmly eating her food. “You might be a lazy nobbler, Amaury, but you are making Garrett practice his control.”

“Control of what?! What the hell was that?”

“The Primal.” Valériane motioned for Basso to sit. “You might as well finish dinner now. They won’t be back.”

“The Primal? You mean that same stuff that saved them back at Northcrest Manor? That was just one big explosion.”

“Right, so be happy he’s learned a bit of control. He nearly blew Adrian and me both off the _Hanged Maiden_.”

Basso slumped down in his chair. He lifted his wine glass and tried to drink only to discover it was already empty.

“So what happened just now?” August wanted to know.

“Fucking little shit cheated.” Amaury stalked back to his chair and threw himself into it.

Aldric glared at him from across the table. “Are you happy? You managed to ruin our first dinner together.”

“I’m just peachy.” Basso almost expected Amaury to stick his tongue out like a bratty child.

“Will you please tell me what just happened?” August asked as he righted the chair for Lord de la Fontaine.

“Garrett can manipulate time and space using the Primal,” Valériane said. “He’s slowly getting better at it, but so far has only managed it when under stress.”  
Basso turned to look at her. “Either I’ve drunk too much or not enough.”

 

Out in the hall Adrian knelt beside where Garrett huddled as the residual Primal energy sparked over them both. He hesitated to touch Garrett, unsure if he’d only make things worse. He shouldn’t have overreacted like that; it had only frightened Garrett more.

“It’s alright now. No one is going to hurt you. You are safe.”

“Safe? From your brother, or you?”

Adrian flinched at Basso’s voice behind him. He stood and turned to face Basso, his whole body tense, unsure if he was going to get hit again.

“Garrett, you are welcome to come stay at my place. I don’t think we are wanted here.”

Adrian let Basso shove him aside, his limbs numb and heavy. There was a shuffling next to him and then Basso was glaring at him. The door to the narrow hall that led to the back stairs clicked shut and Adrian didn’t have to look to know that Garrett was already gone.

“I almost think Garrett might have been better off dying from the poison than meeting you.”

Adrian lowered his head, swallowing against the sudden surge of nausea. Everything that Garrett had suffered these last few months was entirely his fault. Even if he’d managed to save Garrett from the poison, what came later had done just as much damage. When Adrian finally looked up again Basso was already gone. He couldn’t face going back into the dining room; he’d either have to listen to Amaury’s snide comments or to Basso’s. Or both. He just wanted to make sure Garrett was alright but he wasn’t even sure Garrett wanted him around.

The parlor was empty. Picking up one of the wine bottles from the side table he collapsed into the nearest chair. They were home. Things were supposed to be better now. Yet he couldn’t help feeling as though he was slowly losing everything he cared about. His brothers had always been the ones he could turn to for help. He wasn’t sure who to turn to now.

By the time the bottle of wine was gone he could hear the others finishing up dinner. He couldn’t let August find him drinking again. Taking another couple of bottles of wine with him he headed for the sitting room down the hall. No one would bother him there since August only used it for patients. He stood at the window, open wine bottle in hand as he watched the street. It was snowing again.

The second bottle was gone by the time he saw Nathaniel’s coach pull up in the drive. He’d opened the third when he saw Reginald leave. Everyone was retiring for the evening now that dinner was over. Except he’d not eaten anything, and that meant neither had Garrett.

He couldn’t let that happen. Garrett had to eat. Maybe he didn’t like the stew; he’d thrown up a lot of broth on the ship. Maybe something sweet instead.

Elsie’s cakes. Garrett liked those. He’d have to go see if she had any.

Taking the last wine bottle with him, he meandered down the hall and finally made his way to the kitchen. Blinking in the sudden bright light he looked around. Elsie was nowhere to be seen, and a search of all the cupboards and cabinets revealed no leftover cakes.

He’d just have to make them himself. Setting the wine bottle on the counter he went to the larder to find the flour and other ingredients. It was difficult to focus on what he was doing; things kept moving when they shouldn’t. Was Garrett messing with him? No, Garrett was hiding upstairs. That’s why he needed to make the cakes.

He grumbled as the sack of flour flopped open spilling all over the counter, though at least a good amount went in the bowl he’d got out. Next eggs, or was it oil? Might as well do both.

Sugar. He’d almost forgot the sugar. The more sugar the better. Garrett liked sweet things even if he’d never admit it.

A spoon. He needed a spoon to stir the batter.

“Oh damn!” The wine bottle bounced off his boot and rolled away, wine slopping across the floor. “I was drinking that, you lout.”

Trying to grab up the wine bottle he slipped in an egg he didn’t remember dropping and fell. He lay there a moment, waiting for the room to settle down so he could get back up.

“Adrian? What are you doing?”

“Making cake.” Adrian opened his eye to see Garrett crouched next to him.

Garrett shook his head and sighed softly. “You are drunk.”

“Maybe a little. Just need to finish this cake.”

“It can wait. Do you need help up?”

“No. I’m fine.” Adrian pushed himself up. The floor was wet and slick, and he was covered in wine and egg and flour. So much for his uniform. He tottered for a moment as he stood. He looked down at Garrett and frowned. “You’re not mad at me?”

“For getting drunk, or for what happened last night at dinner?”

“I … I’m sorry.” Adrian sniffed and rubbed the back of his hand over his eye. Leaning against the wall next to the door he slid down it and covered his face with a hand. “I’m sorry. Amaury is wrong. I’d do it all again if it meant keeping you safe. Losing an eye is nothing compared to losing you.”

Adrian opened his eye as a hand was placed on top of his head. The concern in Garrett’s eyes only made the guilt worse. He was supposed to be making sure Garrett was alright, not making him worry. Everything about tonight was going wrong. He was vaguely aware of Garrett trying to pull him to his feet, but nothing was cooperating.

“Adrian, you have to move. I can’t lift you.”

“I am moving.”

He lurched to his feet and stumbled forward. Something smacked into his chin and Garrett let out a pained grunt.

“Adrian. Adrian, wake up! You can’t pass out on me now.”

“Mmnot,” Adrian tried to reassure him as everything faded out. The last thing he heard was Garrett’s muffled voice.

“Adrian … don’t do this to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“What in Rork’s teeth have you done to my kitchen?!”

The piercing screech jolted Garrett awake. Above him Adrian groaned and some of the weight left him, allowing him to finally take a full breath. He raised his head up off the tile and glanced around. How had he managed to fall asleep like this? Or had he passed out when Adrian collapsed on him? He barely remembered what happened after seeing the explosion of stars when Adrian’s chin had slammed into the top of his head. Adrian was every bit as heavy as he looked. Either way he was covered in flour and dried egg and everything stank of alcohol. He was going to have to clean up and change before he could go anywhere or do anything. A gentle hand ruffled his hair and he looked up to see Adrian propped up on an elbow and peering down at him. As always the concern surprised him.

“You alright?”

Garrett nodded. “Can you get up? I can’t—”

Elsie’s strident voice interrupted him. “Master Adrian! Just what happened here?”

“Umm …” Garrett knew that sheepish look.

“I’m going to have to go to market in this weather.” Elsie’s voice faded as she headed in the direction of the pantry. There was another loud yell. “I can’t even make breakfast!”

“Ah shit.” Adrian finally managed to move enough to allow Garrett to free his legs and get to his feet. Various points ached, including his elbows and hips, and the back of his head. Just how hard had he hit his head?

Adrian had managed to get as far as sitting up—if the hunched-over slouch could be called sitting. Garrett was a little leery of trying to help him again. At least now he wasn't literally falling-down drunk. Next time he'd just let him sleep it off on the floor. Adrian groaned and put his head in his hands.

"What happened?"

"You said something about a cake, if I understood correctly." Garrett tried to brush the worst of the muck off the front of his shirt only to find it stuck to his fingers instead. "Don't you have to work today?"

"What? Shit. Yes." The words were muffled by his hands as he rubbed at his face, smearing sticky dough across it. Adrian grimaced and looked at his hands. “What in blazes … that reeks.”

“Spoilt egg and wine, no doubt.” Elsie was back. She stood glaring at them, fists on her hips. “Master Adrian, I would kindly ask you to never ever set foot in my kitchen again.”

Adrian nodded and then winced, clutching at his head again. A little stab of pain needled through the Primal. Garrett rubbed his forehead trying to get rid of it. If Adrian’s hangover was bad enough Garrett could feel it, there was little wonder why he hadn’t tried to move much.

“I’ll go fetch Master August. I’m certain he’ll have something for the pain.”

Once Elsie had left, Garrett hovered around Adrian trying to figure out what to do. Adrian was still hunched over holding his head.

“I can’t go to work like this,” he mumbled. “Garrett … bucket. Quickly.”

There was an empty bucket in the pantry. Taking it to Adrian, Garrett sat it next to him. He jumped back as Adrian lurched forward and grabbed the bucket. With a grimace Garrett backed away as Adrian threw up. It reminded him too much of being on the ship and doing the same every time the boat rocked too much. Adrian had never left his side, making sure he was okay each and every time. It had meant more to him than he’d been able to say. He realized he’d never once thanked Adrian; it just hadn’t occurred to him at the time. Kneeling next to Adrian he pulled the long blond hair out of the way so it didn’t end up in the bucket too. There was flour even in Adrian’s hair, though right now that was the least of their worries.

Garrett hesitated before laying his hand on Adrian’s back. So many times the gentle warmth of Adrian’s hand on his back or shoulder had helped ease the awful sick feeling. The low drone of Adrian’s embarrassment and frustration filtered through the Primal. Under it Garrett could sense the deep well of despair that had been there ever since Rozzen had found them in the cave. He’d hoped that being home it would ease, but so far it seemed to be growing. Last night had only made things worse. He had a sinking feeling that Basso and Amaury’s fighting had led to Adrian’s drinking himself into a stupor. And he’d fled and left Adrian to deal with everything on his own.

Adrian sat back, both hands gripping the rim of the bucket. Garrett tucked a loose strand of hair out of the way behind his ear.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away last night.”

Garrett wasn’t sure what to say to that and chose to remain silent. Last night had been a mistake. On several levels. He wasn’t sure what to do either. Basso wouldn’t back down and Adrian refused to defend himself, though Amaury more than made up for that. Amaury was right though. It was his fault Adrian had been hurt. He’d failed to return in time. There was no getting around that. The mechanical eye was safely hidden in Adrian’s room, but there was really no reason to waste any more time. He’d go see Ector today. Hopefully a new eye would help keep the despair from growing.

“Adrian … what am I going to do with you? That was a week’s supply of flour.” August stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest and a sour look on his face.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get you more on the way home.”

“You’re still planning to go to work? It’s well after eight o’clock.”

“I have to. There is no one else to do the work.”

“Alright, well I’ve got something for the pain. Go get cleaned up and drink water. Nothing but water today. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

Garrett started to follow Adrian when August stopped him at the door.

“You need to come with me. Just for a minute. Don’t glare, it won’t take long. I just want to make sure you aren’t concussed. Did he fall on you?”

“He sure did, Master August. Like a great stump of a log squishing a poor little squirrel.”

August chuckled and Garrett frowned at him. August quickly cleared his throat and forced a sober expression.

“Thank you, Elsie, but I asked Garrett. Oh, Elsie. I want all the liquor and wine in the house taken to the cellar and locked up. Have Reginald help you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Garrett, wait.”

“I’m fine, August.” Garrett started to slip by him and stopped as August blocked the door.

“You are not fine. At all. You spent several hours trapped under Adrian because you didn’t have the strength to move him.”

“He’s heavy.”

August raised his eyebrows and Garrett found a crack in the plaster next to the door very interesting.

“Garrett, it is going to take time to recover. Weeks, possibly months. You lost a great deal of weight when you really didn’t have any to lose in the first place. Did you eat anything last night?”

He didn’t want to answer that, though not answering wasn’t going to work either.

“I came down around three to get something and found Adrian.”

“So you haven’t eaten. Garrett, you are a grown man and I cannot tell you what to do, but as a physician I can tell you right now that if you try to resume your normal activities you are going to get hurt. Give yourself some more time.”

“I know my limits.”

August pressed his lips together for a moment before responding. “Physically yes, but what about this new … thing you do? You disappeared from the room as if you’d never been there.”

Garrett scowled. He didn’t want to answer that. Wasn’t sure how to answer it. Using the Primal was still mostly reflexive. He’d not tried to use it consciously since that night they’d escaped from Rozzen. The times it had happened involuntarily on the ship had always come when he was most stressed. Last night’s incident had worn him out badly enough he’d gone upstairs and slept for several hours. He couldn’t risk using it, not when he had so little control and when it cost him so much. He’d lived his whole life without it—he could continue to do so.

“Alright, you don’t have to answer me. Just please be careful. I should go see to Adrian. The idiot. What was he thinking?” August muttered as he turned and headed down the hall to the stairs.

 

Wet, cold wind promised more snow. Valériane pulled the hood of her cloak closer about her face to block it as she walked up the steps to the front door of the large house. A placard next to the door proclaimed it to be the home of Doctor August Barbeaux, licensed physician. Raising the knocker she let it fall with a thud. This had better not be a wasted trip. They’d waited as long as they could, but if Garrett disappeared again then she wasn’t sure what they were going to do.

“Good evening, Madam. Please come in.” Reginald swung the door wide for her to enter and warm air enveloped her. “May I take your coat?”

Valériane handed it to him and shook out her hair. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d forgone her normal bun, or rather, she wasn’t quite ready to admit why.

“Thank you. Will you please let August know I am here? I’m going to go freshen up.”

“Certainly. I’ll have Elsie prepare you some tea.”

“Thank you.”

August was waiting for her in his office down the hall. He smiled and took her hand for a moment before gesturing to one of the two richly upholstered chairs sitting in front of the desk. The office was brightly lit and nicely decorated with paintings of the Throvian countryside. A pair of radiators helped dispel the chill. She could just detect the soft, clean scent of cedar and citrus. Behind the desk a large window looked out onto the street. Full night had fallen.

“I do hope you accept my apologies for last night,” August said as he returned to his seat at the desk.

“Oh please, it’s nothing compared to the shit Adrian and Amaury got up to on the voyage home. I’m just surprised Aldric kept them from each other’s throats for so long. For that matter, where are Adrian and Garrett? I need to talk with them.”

“Garrett is asleep, last I knew and Adrian just got home a short time ago.”

“Oh good. I was afraid Garrett had scampered off again.”

She glanced over as the door opened and Elsie sauntered in, a full tea service carefully balanced on a tray. As she walked by the soft cotton fabric of her skirt brushed Valériane’s hand where it lay on the armrest. She blinked as heat crept over her face. She settled back in her chair, her gaze never leaving the petite heart-shaped face as Elsie poured their tea.

“I think even he’s not willing to be out in this weather,” August said as he took the cup Elsie offered him. “Elsie, is Garrett awake?”

“Yes, sir. He came down just after Master Adrian got home.”

“He’s downstairs?”

“Yes, sir.”

August frowned. “I’ve not seen him.”

Valériane finally tore her gaze from Elsie to look at August. “That’s good. He needs to get back into shape. Last night was a clumsy use of the Primal.”

“This … Primal. What is it?”

“Energy. Pure and simple. Some people just happen to be able to manipulate it. I believe Baron Northcrest called them Attuned.” Valériane smiled at Elsie as she took the cup, letting her fingers brush along the slender hand. Color rose in Elsie’s cheeks and she bobbed a quick curtsy and dashed out of the room.

By the time Elsie returned with Garrett and Adrian in tow, Valériane had given August a full rundown of what they knew of the Primal energy. Given how long the Northcrests had been researching it there was surprisingly little to go on, and the old books were as cryptic as her Master. August excused himself and left, patting Adrian on the shoulder as he went.

Adrian looked haggard, as if he’d not slept the night before. Garrett though was alert, and as wary as she’d ever seen him. Apparently being back in the City agreed with him. Good.

“Evening.”

Adrian mumbled something and Garrett just stared at her. Ignoring it she took a sip of her tea before speaking.

“Garrett, my Master wishes to meet with you and Adrian later this week.”

“Why?”

“For a number of reasons. Firstly, they do have some knowledge of the Primal and how it works. And how to control it.” She gave him a pointed look and watched his gaze waver then drop. “You don’t want another incident like at the cave, do you?”

“I won’t let that happen again.” Garrett had turned away and was headed for the door.

“Garrett, wait. Shouldn’t we at least listen to her?” Adrian had edged to the door but made no move to stop Garrett. “If it helps, it might be worth it.”

“I have no interest in using it. At all.”

“Yet you still do. Unless you’ve conveniently forgotten last night? Or those times on the ship? My Master will train you, show you how to properly use and channel it. There is just one thing we need you to do first.”

Garrett crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the doorframe. “Does this … job pay?”

“In a way. Like I said, you’ll get training and our help.”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Rather have coin.”

“We don’t have the means to pay for this. Besides, you have to have the training to even do what we need.”

She knew the moment she said it that he wouldn’t do it. She could see the change in his stance, how he tensed and the way the look in his eyes changed. He disappeared out the door and a few moments later Adrian followed with a muttered apology. Valériane sighed and slumped back in her chair. It was as she’d feared. Even now, with Rozzen gone and them safely home, the damage was done. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake Rozzen had. He would come willingly or not at all.

“Is everything alright?”

Valériane jerked her head up to find Elsie peering down at her. It surprised her that she didn’t have to force a smile.

“Not really, no. But it will be. May I have some more of that lovely tea?”

 

Wind-whipped waves smacked into the rocks below where Garrett stood, spraying him with icy droplets. The lights from the opposite shore glittered on the water like unreachable jewels. Just as untouchable as the opposite shore was, for the moment. He glanced up at the bridge piers that loomed over him. August’s warning rang in his mind. He wasn’t certain he wanted to risk that route again. It had been difficult enough the first time, and he’d had even less sleep today and was still aching and sore in places. But he had to get across if he wanted to take the eye to Ector.

The Watch-run ferry was docked for the night. He’d been planning on asking Basso the night before after dinner but hadn’t made it back down before he’d headed home. That left possibly stealing a boat. No, that was just asking for trouble. Surely people were getting across without having to rely on the Watch for everything? From where he stood he could see the lights of several boats bobbing on the water. As he watched, he realised one of them was coming steadily closer. Though it looked as though they were headed for a point south of where he stood.

Picking his way along the top of the ice-coated stone wall he kept an eye on the boat. It appeared to be heading for one of the private gated quays.

He reached the quay as the boat swept silently by the open gate. Dropping down to the narrow walkway he waited outside the pool of light cast by the lantern that swung from the rear of the boat. It reminded Garrett of the skiffs they’d used to travel between the bigger ships. This one carried four people, all bundled against the cold.

Nothing was said as two of them shouldered packs and stepped out of the boat onto the walkway. Another lantern was lit and Garrett watched as the encumbered pair headed up a set of worn steps. There was a creak of rusted metal as one of them closed a gate behind them. The sound of their footsteps faded leaving just the lap of water against stone and wood.

“Anything to take on the return?”

“Crate is empty.”

“Alright, let’s get back,” the first woman said.

Garrett hesitated, unsure if he wanted to approach them. If nothing else they might know another way across. Steeling himself, he stepped into the light. The woman at the bow was coiling up the rope when she spotted him.

“Linnet, we have company.”

“Black, grey or red?”

“White.”

“Night or day?”

“Night.”

“I see.” The second woman seated at the stern, slowly turned to face him. “Oh, night indeed. I assume you have a reason for seeking us out?”

Garrett nodded, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them. They were both very still other than the slight rocking of the boat.

“Do you need passage across or did you have something you want taken to Stonemarket?”

“Passage.”

“Well, Siskin, seems we won’t go back with an empty boat.” Linnet smiled at her companion who nodded.

“Come on, get in then. It’s cold and only going to get colder the longer we wait.”

He did as asked and tried to ignore the itching between his shoulders as he sat facing Siskin.

She nodded to him. “Welcome to the Wren’s private ferry service, Master Thief.”

 

Ector’s workshop was cold and much more cluttered than Garrett remembered. Bits and pieces of automatons lay around in various states of disassembly. Some looked a bit scorched, the metal blackened and warped. Had they been salvaged from the Keep? Why? The Baron had abandoned the project. Or was Ector just that attached to his pet project? He stepped closer to the desk to get a look at the head of one of the ‘metal men.’ It looked a lot like the ones he’d seen in the alcoves at the gates. Ector looked up and squinted at him, then set aside the small device he’d been tinkering with.

“Don’t I know you?”

Garrett started to reply when Ector waved a bony hand at him. “No, don’t tell me. If you’re here about the clock again you can just leave. I’m not wasting my skills repairing some old piece of junk. I have more important things to do.”

Garrett frowned at him and took the eye out of its pouch at his waist. Walking over he set it in what little clear space was left on the desk. Ector blinked several times then snatched it up. He adjusted the magnifying glass he wore over his left eye. Turning it this way and that, he peered for a long time at the eye. After several minutes he looked back up at Garrett.

“Very interesting. Where did you get this?”

“Can you fix it?”

“It’s a mechanical eye. You can see the gears, but they are rusted. Corroded. I could fix it, yes. Yes, of course I can fix it. You were right to bring this to me, Master Thief. Come back … what day is today?”

“Sunday.”

“Come back at the end of the week. I’ll have it fixed for you.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Nonsense. Of course I can. Friday. Come back Friday.”


	5. Chapter 5

Aldric set aside the newspaper he’d been reading as something came thudding down the stairs. He started to get to his feet, worried Adrian had fallen down them again. The first week they’d been back, he’d fallen down them twice. That was before Garrett had been able to start shadowing him everywhere.

“August! August, where is Garrett?”

Aldric settled back into his chair, relieved to hear Adrian even if he sounded a bit panicked.

“If he’s not upstairs I have no idea.” August’s voice came from somewhere in the direction of his office at the other end of the house.

“He’s not upstairs.”

In the chair next to Aldric, Amaury snorted. “Let’s hope he’s dead in a gutter somewhere.”

Aldric gritted his teeth. Folding his newspaper he slapped Amaury with it. “Shut it.”

Amaury scowled at him but didn’t say anything more. Instead he got up to put another log on the fire. The radiators couldn’t keep up with the chill and he swore he could feel a draft as the wind rattled the windowpanes. The peace was shortlived. Adrian appeared in the parlor doorway still fully dressed in his Captain’s uniform. Aldric was struck by how menacing he looked. The coat and cape made him seem bigger than he already was. When he wore the helmet he was nearly unrecognizable.

“Did you bother him today?” Adrian’s voice was deceptively soft. Once he quit talking then Aldric would have to intervene. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to any longer. This had gone on long enough.

“Nope. I’ve not seen the little shit.”

“Why are you even still here? Why haven’t you gone home?”

“What do you care? August said he doesn’t mind, and the weather is bad so we stayed.”

“I mind.”

“It’s not your house.”

“I live here and I want you to leave. Garrett needs rest. You could have killed him on the way home.”

Amaury grunted but didn’t say anything. Something Aldric was momentarily grateful for. They’d all seen the toll these—episodes—cost Garrett. After that first one when they’d returned to the ship he’d been too weak to even walk and had slept the next full day.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Ri. He wouldn’t leave if he wasn’t. He just got startled last night.”

“Yeah, and you made everything better by acting like a drunk idiot.”

Aldric closed his eyes. There went any hope for a peaceful evening.

“Well if you weren’t such a fucking bastard about everything maybe I wouldn’t have to drink to stand being around you.” Adrian advanced into the room and stopped in front of Amaury, glaring at him. “Why can’t you just leave him alone?”

“Why can’t you?” Amaury’s smile was hateful. “Admit it: the only reason you’re upset he’s not here is because he’s not in your bed.”

Adrian went very still. “What?”

“You heard me. It’s not exactly a secret he shares your bed.”

“What do you care who shares my bed? It’s none of your business anyway. Have I ever once said anything about all the women you brought on board? Or the whore houses you dragged me to?”

“Fat lot of good that did. You still had to go and end up a molly.”

Adrian stood stiff, eyes wide as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Aldric was suddenly glad Adrian didn’t have his sword with him.

“Amaury, that’s enough.”

“Is it, Aldric? Look at us. Look at HIM!” Amaury gestured to Adrian’s face. “I’ll never be sorry Rylan died that night and the sooner we are rid of the thief the better.”

Adrian made a strangled sound and spun on his heel. The door slammed shut behind him.

Aldric got to his feet and grabbed Amaury’s arm, yanking him around so they faced each other.

“What the hell has got into you?”

“August told me how this all started. He disobeyed Mother from the start.”

“So, go pack your stuff. We are leaving.” The last thing Aldric wanted to do was leave, especially since it had been snowing all day, but he wasn’t in the mood for dealing with his brothers either.

“What? I’m not leaving at this hour. It’s nearly time to go to bed. I already had Elsie ready my room.”

“Then go apologize to your brother.”

“For what? Speaking the truth?”

“There is a difference between what is truth and what is just being petty. Now go.”

Amaury wrenched away from him and stormed out of the room. Rubbing the ache in his temples Aldric decided he better go keep an eye on the two of them. He’d really hoped things would have changed now that they were home, but that was too much to ask for. He still wished he knew more about what had happened with Rozzen. He believed Adrian’s story but part of him couldn’t imagine her being so cruel to him. There was no denying the scars and missing eye though.

He’d always known they were expendable to her, but at the time there’d been little choice. He’d let himself become complacent over the years. Excusing her ruthless behavior as being what was needed to get the job done. He’d pacified his conscience by telling himself they were helping the oppressed. Rozzen had made sure they were well rewarded for the part they played. He looked around the parlor; out of all of them August was the only one who could claim he’d truly made his own way. She might have put him through the schooling but the practice was his. What had he done to earn being Captain of the fleet except kill people?

“What was all the yelling about?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Aldric looked up to see August in the doorway. “Same as usual, though Amaury’s being particularly nasty tonight.”

“I really don’t understand his attitude about Garrett. He’s done nothing to warrant this kind of animosity.”

“Except get noticed by Adrian. You didn’t see them August. When we found them in that awful forest I couldn’t believe they were still alive. You saw how much weight Adrian lost, how many scars he has. I understand why Amaury is upset—no, let me finish—I understand why, but he’s upset with the wrong person. None of what happened was Garrett’s fault.”

“Of course, but none of us can convince Amaury of that. Just like we couldn’t convince Adrian that what happened to Rylan was an accident.”

Aldric winced at the name. “It was negligence. But Amaury knew better than to bring him up now.”

August frowned and started to say something when there was a yell and a loud crash and the sound of splintering wood from down the hall. They exchanged a look then took off running, Aldric close behind August. He could feel the cold air before they even reached the foyer. The lack of yelling alarmed him.

They turned the corner and Aldric nearly ran over August.

“My door!”

“I’ll get you a new one.” Aldric pushed him out of the way. Splintered pieces of the front door littered the porch. The crack of fist against flesh and pained grunts told him everything he needed to know.

In the pale flickering light of the streetlamp he couldn’t make out who was who, both of them covered in snow and churned up mud. He put out his arm to stop August from going to them.

“Not just yet.” This fight had been brewing for weeks and it was time they got it out of their system. He’d hoped that by forbidding any fighting on the ship they’d figure out a better way to settle their differences. Unfortunately it seemed they’d neither one learned how to communicate with the other.

“You know Adrian can’t beat him in a fight,” August muttered beside him.

“I know.”

“Then why are you allowing this?”

He turned to look down at August who was glaring at him. “What else would you have me do? Send them to their rooms like children? No. They are adults; they will work this out.”

“Or kill each other. I don’t see how beating each other bloody is working things out.”

Aldric started down the short flight of steps. “Sometimes words aren’t enough.”

“Spoken like a true pirate.”

The fight was already over. Amaury pinned Adrian face down in the snow, a fist in his hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a death wish or something?”

Adrian pushed himself up and Amaury let go of him and stood. Adrian sat up and with a growl yanked loose his eye patch from where it was tangled in his hair and threw it. It hit Amaury in the chest and bounced off to land in the snow at his feet. His split lip bled into his goatee. Muddy slush dripped from the front of his uniform.

“If it meant you’d leave Garrett alone … yes.”

“Why? Why would you throw everything away for some gutter rat?”

“I haven’t thrown anything away.”

“Are you stupid? You gave up a ship, a life—”

“That is your life! Not mine! I never wanted to be a pirate. None of you ever asked what I wanted.” He turned to glare at Aldric. “None of you.”

Aldric blinked. Was that true? Had he really never considered Adrian might want something else? He’d put all his skill into being a sailor and he was good at it. He was a good Captain and knew how to care for his ship and crew.

Adrian got to his feet and wiped at the blood dripping from his chin. Aldric tried to reach out to him as he walked past but Adrian knocked his hand away. August helped Adrian up the stairs and into the house, looking back to give Aldric a pointed look. He turned back to Amaury.

“Do you feel better now?”

Amaury sighed, his shoulders slumping. He lowered his head and after a moment shook it.

“Come on inside and get cleaned up. We are leaving.”

Amaury nodded and let out a breath that fogged in the cold air. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

Aldric pressed his lips together and turned away from him. Just how far had Amaury thought he could shove Adrian before he shoved back? They’d already come to blows once over this. He loved all his brothers but they could be very trying at times.

“Aldric, wait. I’m serious.”

Stamping the snow off his shoes Aldric stayed silent. He’d said his piece long ago. Either they found a way to work through this or not, but he was done getting in the middle of things.

“Don’t you care that he’s nearly killed himself over this thief?”

Aldric waited until they were both in the foyer before turning to face Amaury. “Don’t you care?”

Amaury blinked at him. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, confusion in his eyes.

“And the thief has a name.”

 

August was putting away the bandages in the drugs cabinet in the workroom that served as his operating theater when a soft cough had him looking around.

“Over here.” Garrett stood near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, I’m glad to see you are back.” August straightened and shut the drawer. “Did you come in the window or actually use the door this time?”

“What happened?”

“I’m sure Adrian could give you a better—”

“He’s locked his room.”

August raised his eyebrows and Garrett shook his head. “I’m not going in there right now. He’s … upset.”

“Ah, shouldn’t that be all the more reason for you to go?”

“I will later. First I want to know what happened.”

August grimaced. “Amaury.”

He didn’t miss the way Garrett stiffened, gaze darting to the door.

“He’s not here. After … after the fight he and Aldric left.”

“Fight?”

“Yes. Apparently the one Aldric wouldn’t let them have all the way home. From what little anyone has seen fit to tell me, the voyage home wasn’t pleasant.”

“I get seasick.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but that’s not what I meant. He’s always been the most soft-hearted out of the four of us. If Rozzen had let him I think he would have stayed working with me. His protective nature and desire to help sometimes means he overextends himself.”

August waited but Garrett remained silent.

“None of this is actually about you. Well, not all of it anyway. We … we had to watch Adrian go to pieces after losing someone and none of us want that again. It took him years to get over Rylan.”

“You think I’m going to leave?”

“No, I’m afraid you are going to die. You’ve pushed yourself to the very limits of human endurance. You should have been dead several times over. One of these times it’s going to stick.”

Garrett unfolded his arms and walked across the room. His right eye almost seemed to glow blue-green, but August dismissed it as a trick of the light. Garrett stopped a few feet away, looking up at him. He started to say something when his eyes glazed over for a moment. This time August was certain he saw a blue flash in Garrett’s right eye. There was a soft hiss of pain and Garrett clutched his side. Before he could ask what was wrong Garrett was already heading for the door.

“Get some bandages and come with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Adrian is hurt.” August wasn’t sure if it was concern or pain in Garrett’s voice.

“I know. I just patched him up.”

“No, it’s something—Just come on.”

Confused, August did as asked. Garrett was waiting for him at the door to Adrian’s room. He glanced at the medical bag August was carrying before kneeling to pick the lock.

“I can get a key.”

“I’m faster.”

“Can’t argue there,”August murmured as he followed Garrett into the room. He wasn’t even certain where the spare key to Adrian’s room was.

Adrian wasn’t in the bedroom. His uniform jacket lay discarded over the radiator, dripping water on the floor. Garrett seemed to know exactly where he was though and went straight for the bathroom door. They both rushed to Adrian’s side where he was curled up on the floor next to the tub. A bar of soap lay on the tiles beside him.

August carefully checked him before gently turning him onto his back. Adrian’s breathing was rapid and shallow but he was conscious.

“Adrian, what happened?”

“Stupid … dropped it and couldn’t see it. Stepped on it and fell.” He gestured weakly toward the tub. “Hit the tub.”

“With what? Your head, your side? What?” From the way Adrian was breathing and holding himself August already had a suspicion it was his ribs.

“Side.”

“Can you stand?”

Adrian hesitated before nodding.

“Alright, hold on. Garrett can you get his other arm?”

August ended up supporting most of Adrian’s weight and he wondered if it was because Adrian didn’t want to lean on Garrett too much.

“Adrian, do you want me to—”

“No. Don’t even ask.”

“I can do this. It will help.”

“No.”

“Do what? What is he talking about, Adrian?” August helped him sit on the bed and then stood looking at the two of them. Adrian had an arm wrapped around his middle and Garrett seemed to have unconsciously mimicked the gesture.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

August frowned. “I need you to take your shirt off so I can check your side. Can you lift your arms over your head?”

August stepped back to give Adrian room. Adrian gasped as he tried to lift his arm and out of the corner of his eye August saw Garrett jerk. Adrian dropped his shirt onto the floor and braced himself as August knelt beside the bed.

Running his fingers down Adrian’s left side, August probed gently. In two places things gave that should not give and Adrian whimpered. August turned to Garrett to ask him how he’d known Adrian was hurt, and paused. Garrett was much paler than he had been a few moments ago and was hunched over holding his side. An idea took form in August’s mind. If he was right it would explain a few of the things Aldric had told him, but it was well beyond the realm of science. Might as well approach it as an experiment.

“Adrian, raise your arm again.”

“Do I have to? This hurts like hell.”

“I need to make sure nothing has splintered off and is in danger of puncturing your lung.”

Adrian did as asked. This time August kept his eyes on Garrett as he tested the extent of the damage to Adrian’s ribs. Every time he touched one of the breaks Garrett stiffened.

“You feel that too, Garrett? Two busted ribs.”

“Yes.” His voice was strained.

“Adrian, can Garrett help you?”

A look of panic crossed Adrian’s face. “No. You can’t let him do that.”

“Can’t let him do what?”

“Heal me.”

“He can heal you?”

“I can but he won’t let me.” Garrett sounded more put out this time, with less pain and more frustration in his tone.

“How?” August was on his feet now and facing Garrett. “Is it related to this Primal?”

Garrett nodded. “Directly.”

“Adrian, you do realize that as long as you are in pain you are hurting Garrett as well.”

“I … but it’s dangerous. No, Garrett. It’s too dangerous. Just give me something for the pain, August.”

“You have two broken ribs; giving you pain meds is all I can do. You must have hit the tub pretty hard.”

“Adrian, I can do this. At least let me try.”

“I’ll be right here, Adrian. If anything happens I can take care of Garrett.”

Adrian closed his eyes. “Just enough so it’s not hurting you too.”

Garrett nodded and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Don’t overdo it, Garrett.”

“I won’t.” Garrett put his hand on Adrian’s shoulder.

A brilliant flash of light blinded August. Something tugged at him, as if he had a rope around his chest. It tightened then was gone. He opened his eyes and blinked, clutching at the bedpost trying to stay upright. Garrett pitched forward and Adrian grabbed for him to keep him from falling to the floor.

“Goddamn it! I said not to overdo it!”

Garrett’s soft mumble was nearly unintelligible. Adrian picked him up and laid him on the bed, then sat beside him. “Don’t give me that. You did that on purpose.”

August pulled himself up. The ache in his chest was rapidly fading but he felt as though he’d been running for miles, his whole body numb and shaking.

“What was that?”

“He healed me. Completely.” Adrian lifted his arm and tapped his side.

“He … can do that? You can do that?” Garrett’s hand twitched but he didn’t respond. August stepped toward Adrian.“Let me see.”

The breaks were gone as if they’d never been there.

“Quit pawing at me and look after Garrett.”

August’s mind raced as he checked Garrett’s vital signs. Garrett didn’t even protest, half-closed eyes just following August’s movements. This sort of power was phenomenal; no wonder Rozzen had been so determined to capture Garrett. Looking down at him, August realized he’d not even considered the lengths Garrett himself had gone to in making sure Adrian got back to them. This meant the stories were true—even the parts that had seemed fantastical.

“He’ll be fine.” August turned to Adrian. “Elsie told me Valériane wants you both to meet her Master and go through training?”

“Yes. Sometimes he can’t control when it happens. Amaury nearly killed him on the ship.”

“If it taxes him this badly …” August let the words die. No wonder Adrian was so furious with Amaury. He really could have killed Garrett and not even realize what he’d done. “I’m going to go see if Elsie has anything left over from dinner. I’ll have her bring some up to you. Garrett, I expect you to eat. You have to recover your strength.”

“See? I’m not the only one who thinks you should be taking it easy.”

August patted Adrian on the shoulder and started toward the door. He smiled as he heard Adrian chiding Garrett about taking better care to not overtax himself. The gentle tone reminded him of their father saying the same to their mother before Adrian was born. Before she’d died. Smiling sadly he shook himself and turned away. He shut the door behind him as he left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

The first rays of dawn crept over the bed and caught in the red highlights in Adrian’s hair where it splayed over the pillow. Garrett shifted, raising up on one elbow to peer down at him. He’d not planned on sleeping the whole night but he’d also not planned on having to heal Adrian. At least now the bruises from the fight were gone too. He reached out to touch the scarred cheek but fell short at the last instant, his fingers hovering just above the skin.

He pulled his hand back and let his eyes fall closed. The low hum of the Primal, like the rumble of a generator—more felt than heard—permeated everything. It was so constant he could ignore it for the most part, though when things were quiet it made its presence known. If he concentrated the hum would dissolve into a thousand whispering voices. The voice of the City. The voices Erin had screamed about. A shudder ran through him and he opened his eyes. He should get up; it was late.

A fresh layer of snow sparkled in the early morning sunlight and Garrett squinted against the brilliance. It was bright enough to give him a headache. Letting the curtain fall closed again he turned as the door to the room opened.

“Good morning, Master Garrett. I see Master Adrian is still asleep.”

Garrett watched Elsie lay out the newly clean Captain’s uniform, wondering how she’d managed to get all the mud out of the coat.

“Master August invites you to breakfast with him downstairs if you like.” Elsie said as she knelt to sweep the ashes out of the fireplace. “He’d be very pleased if you did.”

Garrett looked toward the bed. “You’re not going to wake Adrian?”

“No, Master August said to let him sleep. Shall I fetch you a change of clothes?”

“It’s fine. I’ve got some in the wardrobe.”

“Ah yes, I forget. You are so much more tidy than Master Adrian.” Elsie walked over to him and looked at him for a long moment. “You’re looking better this morning. Not quite as deathly pale. Though you’re always as pale as a ghost.”

He started as she patted his arm. “Come along now. Breakfast is still warm if you hurry.”

As Garrett entered the room August smiled and set down the paper he’d been reading. Light poured in through the frost covered window panes, bright enough to put to shame the flickering gas lamp overhead and leave him blinking. The scent of warm bread and tea reminded him he’d missed dinner the night before.

“How are you feeling this morning? Elsie said you slept all night.”

“I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it. She managed to get some eggs yesterday, and there is some toast and jam.” August waited until Garrett sat and got himself a piece of toast, before continuing. “I was wondering if you could explain to me what it is that happened last night?”

“You were there.”

“If you think that means I understand exactly what it is that happened, I hate to disappoint you. I … when you were healing him I felt something. As if something were drawing all the breath out of me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Garrett said as he smoothed the berry jam over his toast. Nathaniel and the others had never mentioned anything like that happening before, and he wondered if it had something to do with the Primal threads he could see connecting everyone when he focused. Healing Adrian had meant having to pull at the threads, and the one connected to August had been brightest and strongest at the time. It was still there now if he concentrated.

“So you don’t know how these powers work?”

August sounded slightly accusatory and Garrett frowned at him. “I don’t like using them and what I did last night is not something I care to repeat often.”

“Of course.” August nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It just worries me that there is so much that is unknown about how this Primal works.”

“It’s best to just forget it. Not make the same mistake Northcrest did.”

August looked at him for a long moment before picking up his newspaper. “I don’t think anyone wants a repeat of last year. It’s going to take years for the City to recover. I need a General for the Watch but so far it seems I’m stuck in that position. And I’m quickly running out of funds and we don’t even have a quarter of the force we need. Father and the other aristocrats would rather squabble over who should be in charge. Thankfully Father has won out so far by seniority, but it’s a tenuous hold.”

“What about Adrian? Isn’t he in charge of the Watch?”

“Of Stonemarket, yes. I put him there because … please don’t tell him this, but I put him there because with his injury he is more a liability in the cleanup in Dayport and Auldale. He’s so bloody helpful and wants to be right in the thick of it and—look what happened last night! No. Until he’s used to working with limited vision I cannot give him anything but an office position.”

An unwelcome chill ran over Garrett and settled into a cold weight in his middle. Friday. Friday he could go check on Ector’s progress.

He was nearly finished eating when Adrian came into the room. The bright smile melted some of the chill from him.

“Good morning. How are you feeling, Garrett?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep all night?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Garrett said as he watched Adrian sit across from him and carefully look at the placement of everything on the table before reaching for anything.

“Did Aldric and Amaury get home alright?”

“As far as I know.” August seemed surprised that Adrian had asked.

“It’s not like it’s that far to Father’s manor. Is that today’s paper?”

“Yes. Apparently the restoration efforts have taken a back seat to political infighting.”

“Anything about Father?”

“Just a quote from him that’s as vague as ever. House Marlham is challenging his claim to the title of Baron.”

“Is there anything about Harlan’s estate?”

Garrett looked at Adrian, wondering why he was interested in the Thief-Taker General. It had been months since his death. The estate should have been liquidated weeks ago.

“Nothing. Apparently Harlan had no heir so everything is locked up in court while the lawyers debate what to do.”

“Sell it—make back some of what that bastard cost us. My men need new boots and coats with this weather. And decent food. Keeping all that stuff in storage isn’t doing anyone any good.”

“Oh, they haven’t bothered to move anything from the house. No one wants to pay to have it moved or stored.”

Adrian sighed and poked at an egg which oozed yolk all over his toast. “Such a waste.”

After Adrian left for work Garrett went to August’s library. It was well stocked with various medical texts and several interesting chemistry books as well. August joined him after a bit and they both sat reading near the fire. Garrett was grateful that of all the brothers August was like Adrian, and content to just sit and not force conversation or ask questions. Aldric seemed to take silence as a personal affront and tended to talk about anything and everything to whoever was in earshot.

The clock had just struck eleven when Reginald came in holding a letter.

“Sir, this just came for you.”

August took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the card. His eyebrows rose and he made a small noise.

“Well … I suppose three weeks notice is better than one. Thank you, Reginald. It seems we have a ball to attend.”

“A ball?” Garrett closed the book he’d been reading. Balls meant ladies with jewelry and men with money.

“Yes. A masquerade, specifically. And you’ve been invited by name.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know another Garrett.” August held out the card and envelope. After a moment Garrett took it from him.

It was heavy linen and embossed with gold foil. Sure enough, he was listed right after Adrian: Garrett of Stonemarket. It gave him an odd chill to see his name on something like this. He looked at the crest again and realized it was House Barbeaux.

“Why would they invite me?”

“I’m not entirely certain, but Father has his reasons, I’m sure.”

“He does know I’m a thief?”

August started to open his mouth and then shut it, a perplexed look crossing his face. “I-I think so. It’s no matter.”

“I won’t be going.”

“Oh … that might be an issue.”

“Why?”

“I have a feeling that if you don’t, Adrian won’t.”

“Why?”

August took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “I’ll let him talk to you about it. You probably don’t know this, but balls are not something he enjoys. I think your presence would give him some peace of mind. Besides, you can wear a mask the whole time if you wish.”

Garrett flipped the card over in his hand. He knew Adrian’s thoughts on balls, masked or otherwise. No one would even need to know who he was or see his face. But that also meant wearing a tailcoat or similar attire so as to blend in with the crowd. Things had gone tolerably well in Leiston at the ball the governor had thrown. He’d even found the journal and box that had helped them later. Maybe it was time to start rebuilding his collection.

 

Adrian let the box drop onto his desk. The resulting cloud of dust billowed up in his face and he sneezed. Hopefully this box would yield some answers, though he was beginning to doubt he’d find anything. He’d already been through every cabinet and file in the Watch Council Office and found nothing.

“Maybe we should see about getting you a secretary.”

Adrian looked up to see Captain Leonard walking toward him. “I wouldn’t object to that.”

“So what’s all this?” Leonard gestured to the piles of boxes and files.

Adrian dusted his hands off and sat down. “How well do you know the other Captains?”

“The ones left over from before the riots or the new ones?”

“Anyone who knew Harlan.”

Leonard grunted but said nothing else, choosing instead to drag the other chair over so he could sit facing Adrian. He sat and took a pipe out of his coat pocket and a paper of tobacco out of another. Adrian watched without comment as he went through the ritual of packing and then lighting the pipe. The sweet smell filled the air and Leonard sat back with a sigh.

“Three. There are three of us left.”

“That’s it? You, and …?”

“Durham. And the bastard who deserted his post at Northcrest Manor the night of the riots.”

“Poultick? I thought he died.”

“No, he showed up about a week after you left on that damn silly mission. Begged August for his post back, and, well … you know how short handed we are. But, why this sudden interest in us veterans of the Graven Riots?”

Adrian pulled a worn file from under the box and handed it to Leonard. “I want to find where Harlan hid all the Black Tax money he collected.”

“You sure he didn’t spend it?”

“On what? He stole and extorted everything most men waste their coin on. I think he stashed a good amount of it.” Adrian pulled the lid off the box and shuffled through the papers inside. Nothing but patrol reports and filled requisitions.

“Where? It’s not in any of the banks or tied up in promissory notes.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going through everything to try and find where it’s all gone.”

“And do what with it, if you even find it?” Leonard asked and sat back, puffing on his pipe as if he already knew the answer.

“If it is as much as I think it might be, it should be enough to fund at least part of the City restoration project and get the Watch back on its feet.”

“I hope you plan on boots for those feet.”

Adrian set the lid back on the box and leaned his elbows on the desk as a thought occurred to him. If he went about this properly he might be able to restore not only the Watch but help local craftsmen too. First he needed the funds and the sooner he located them the sooner he could implement his idea.

“How many workers were waiting today?”

“Not as many as yesterday, but I figure a lot are giving up or aren’t hardy enough to brave the weather. Why?”

Adrian stood and went to the window. The clock tower glistened with frost in the morning light. Of everything that had suffered the Graven in the City, he was glad the clock tower and Stonemarket had remained largely unscathed. He checked his pocket watch; it seemed Garrett hadn’t been maintaining the clock. It was running five minutes behind. Adrian put his watch away, knowing he’d rather the clock tower stop altogether than worry about Garrett being up there by himself right now when the weather was so bad and he’d yet to fully recover. Adrian knew he’d have to resign himself to Garrett leaving once he was well enough and the weather warmed again. He shook himself, remembering Leonard had asked a question.

“I might be able to put them to work,” he said as he turned away from the window. “First I have to find where Harlan stashed the Black Tax.”

Leonard peered at him through a cloud of smoke. “Maybe we should talk to the other Captains. I’d especially consider Orsley Durham. That no good bastard sat on his ass in South Quarter while the riots happened. Before that he refused to do anything about the Eelbiters, even telling his men to leave them be.”

“You have proof of this?”

“Only what I’ve been told, but I wager it’s worth looking into.”

“I suppose this means I’ll be making a trip to South Quarter.”

“Want me to go for you?”

“Why? You think I can’t handle a couple of Eelbiters?”

Leonard chuckled. “No, just figured you’d rather sit here and stare at the clock tower the rest of the day. Still upset you missed out on the raid?”

In spite of himself, Adrian glanced toward the window. “Aren’t you amusing. You go see what Durham has to say and I’ll keep going through what paperwork I can find.”

“You’ve checked the station on Market Street?”

“Not yet. August said to wait until they’ve finished with some of the repairs. I guess the fire did a lot of damage. I’m just hoping there are still some records to be found.”

Leonard stood and tapped the contents of his pipe into a pot sat on the windowsill. “Let’s hope. My boys are hungry and cold.”


	7. Chapter 7

Adrian strode past the two carpenters as they worked to fit the new door. Yanking off his coat he tossed it in the general direction of the hall tree and followed it with his helmet which clattered on the tile and rolled to a stop at Reginald’s feet.

Reginald knelt to pick it up. “Good evening, Master Adrian. May I assist you?”

“No—yes, here.” Adrian jerked his belt through the loop and thrust his sword at Reginald.

“Master Garrett is in the library with Master August.”

Adrian took a deep breath, the frantic tension disappearing and leaving him weak. He nodded, not sure of his voice at the moment, and Reginald gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“Dinner will be ready presently. Would you like some tea for now?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“A letter came for you today. Master August has it.”

Adrian thanked him again and started down the hall toward the library which sat adjacent August’s workroom. The door stood open, the room well lit and nearly cheery with a fire crackling in the grate. He stood in the doorway a moment letting the scene soak into his senses, wanting to remember it. Garrett sat in one of the chairs near the fire, legs stretched out in front of him as he read a book. Adrian tried to remember the last time he’d seen Garrett look so relaxed and at ease. The carriage ride back from the ball they’d attended in Leiston, when Garrett had actually let him rub his feet. It had been one of the rare times during their whole trip that they’d had a chance to relax. Since they’d met it had been one catastrophe after another.

“I know that look.” August’s soft comment had him glancing to his right. August stood at the bookshelf, several books tucked in the crook of his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Adrian smiled, letting the last of the tension bleed away. He was home, and so was Garrett. “Nothing, just a long day. I’ve got a few things I need to discuss with you.”

“And I, you. We received an invitation from Father today. He’s throwing a ball.”

“Why?”

“I suppose to flaunt the fact that he’s still solvent enough to afford to have one. He invited Garrett.”

“He … what?”

“Yes, by name.” August motioned for Adrian to follow him over to the chairs where he set his books on the nearby table. “Isn’t that right, Garrett?”

“Unfortunately.”

Adrian turned to August. “You are going to tell him we aren’t coming?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then I’ll tell him.”

“Adrian, stop and think for a minute. You need to be there. You’ve been asking me for more funding for the Watch. Well, the nobles you need to convince will be there.”

“I thought I only needed to convince you.”

“Don’t mope. You want to be Captain again then you need to help me with this.” August sat in the chair across from Garrett and picked up an envelope that was sitting on the table. “Here is the invitation.”

Adrian opened it and read through it before folding it again. “‘Garrett of Stonemarket?’ Sounds like a royal title.”

“It’s not as though they could put ‘Garrett, Master Thief’ on the invitations and have him announced that way,” August said, giving Adrian a pointed look.

“Why don’t you just have them announce you by your full name?” Adrian asked as he set the invitation down and took the tea Reginald offered him.

“‘Garrett’ is all of it.”

“Oh …” Adrian bit at his lip and wondered how he’d not known that. He knew Garrett had no family, but he’d not thought he’d also be without a surname. It just hadn’t occurred to him. “Why not just use my last name? I don’t think anyone would question it.”

August’s laugh startled Adrian. “That has to be the saddest proposal I’ve ever heard, Adrian.”

“Proposal?!” Adrian squeaked. He coughed. “I mean … umm. Nevermind.”

Trying to hide his burning face Adrian set down his teacup and picked up the invitation again, turning it over in his hands. “It’s not just a ball, it’s dinner too.”

“The dinner is private. Just for us.”

“So why did he invite Garrett?”

“Maybe he has some things he wants rid of.”

“Garrett, please don’t steal from my father,” August said.

“Why not? Apparently I’m going to be stealing his name.”

Adrian caught himself smiling and shook his head. “This isn’t Leiston, though if things don’t go well I might ask for your help.”

“You do realize you are discussing this in front of the General of the Watch?”

“So? It’s not like the last General didn’t conspire with half the criminals in the city.”

“I’ll thank you not to compare me to Harlan.”

Adrian chuckled and caught a rare glimpse of the hint of a smile on Garrett’s face. Tingling warmth shot through him, feeding the hope in the back of his mind. He let it be, not dwelling on it. Not yet.

“Does this mean you want to go, Garrett?”

Garrett closed his book. “From what August tells me, I can wear a mask and only need to meet your father at the dinner. It might be worth going if only to see who shows up.”

Adrian watched him for a moment, wondering if he should contact Nathaniel in the morning about getting Garrett a new outfit. “Father will expect Aldric to give a toast during dinner.”

“A toast? To what?”

“Becoming Baron, surviving the riots, all of that. You’ll be expected to participate.”

Garrett tapped his fingers on the cover of the book, his gaze fixed on Adrian. “If I don’t?”

“Father will be offended,” August said with a grimace. “It appears he knows who you are and where to find you, and I’d rather not risk upsetting him and him retaliating by making me arrest you.”

Garrett frowned at August. “You’d do that?”

“No, not willingly. But it’s just a toast, a single glass of wine. Surely that’s not too much to ask?”

Garrett lowered his head and muttered something Adrian couldn’t catch.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink? At all?”

“Don’t act so surprised, Adrian. Not everyone drinks whiskey like it’s water.”

“I don’t and that’s beside the point. They’ll be serving wine at dinner. Just once won’t hurt, will it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“You’ve never … August, do you have any wine left?”

“I might, though you drank most of it the other night,” August pointed out.

“I replaced the bottle I broke. Where is that?”

“I’ll have Elsie bring it up for us to have with dinner.”

 

Basso showed up just as they were getting ready to sit down for dinner.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just got word that the old guild heads are planning a secret meeting. Rumor is they want rid of Ambrose since he’s not allowing them to rebuild the guilds.”

“Want rid … you don’t think they mean to assassinate him?” August said.

“No! But they’re looking for ways to undermine his position and get Marlham in power as Baron. You need to meet with them. Tomorrow. Do anything you can to pacify them.”

August flopped back in his chair. “I didn’t realize that being General of the Watch was such a political position. Sit down, Basso. Join us for dinner and afterwards we can discuss what can be done.”

“Wine with dinner? What’s the occasion?”

Adrian cast a glance at August who shrugged.

“Do we need one?”

“Not at all.” Basso chuckled. “Though you didn’t need to pour Garrett a glass. He never drinks.”

“I do tonight.”

“What? You never drink with me at the Burrick.”

Garrett remained silent and Basso finally grunted. “Whatever. We’ll drink together tonight then.”

They’d nearly finished eating when Adrian realized Garrett had yet to touch his glass of wine.

“Garrett, are you going to drink any of the wine? Come on, it’s not going to hurt anything. You can’t even get tipsy on that amount.”

Garrett’s gaze flicked from the glass to Adrian who tried to offer him a supportive smile.

“Maybe you can’t.”

“It’s half a glass, Garrett. No one can get drunk on half a glass.”

Adrian watched him as he held it to his nose and took a sniff. “Well … it smells okay.”

Adrian took a sip of his wine. Garrett held his glass just staring down at it and Adrian wondered if he was pressuring him too much.

“Okay, you know what? We don’t have to do this. Father will just have to understand,” Adrian said and reached to take the glass away from Garrett.

Garrett raised the glass to his lips and downed the whole thing. Adrian stared and after a moment remembered to close his mouth. Garrett shook his head and made a face.

“That’s … not how you do it,” Adrian finally managed.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Garrett set down the glass.

Basso laughed. Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled Garrett’s glass. “Here, might as well actually taste this one.”

“Wait, Garrett, you might want to slow down. See how you do with that first glass.”

“I’m fine.”

Over the next few minutes Garrett went from fine to barely able to stay upright in his chair. He slumped over against Adrian who propped him back up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so unable to hold their liquor,” August said.

“I’m holding it!” Garrett lifted his glass, slopping a good portion onto Adrian.

“He’s drunk … Garrett, you’re drunk.” Basso sounded incredulous.

“Hardly. Adrian said you can’t get drunk on one glass.”

“It was half a glass and yes, I think Basso is right.”

Garrett shook his head and nearly fell out of his chair. “The wine got drunk. Not me.”

“I can see now why you never drink with me and the boys at the Burrick.”

“I’d rather drink your cologne than what they serve. Maybe you should try that instead.”

“We should probably call it a night. You’re going to need to sleep this off,” Adrian said as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

“It’s my night, not your night, and I’ll call it what I want to.”

“Well …” Adrian looked to August for help. The last thing he wanted was to have to pick Garrett up to carry him to bed and risk upsetting him. August just shrugged and continued eating. Adrian sat back down, unsure what to do other than wait and keep his eye on Garrett. Garrett leaned toward him, the glow in his right eye growing more pronounced as he blinked. Adrian wondered if the glow had anything to do with the light touch at the back of his mind, almost as if someone were running their fingers through his hair.

“Watch Captain, always watching Watch Captain.”

“There is no way I’m letting you drink anything at the ball. I didn’t think it would affect you this badly or this fast.”

“What did you expect? He's nothing but skin and bones,” Basso snapped. “And what ball?”

“I'm not a skeleton. I’m a ghost. A ghost to haunt the Barbeaux ball.”

Adrian grabbed the glass from Garrett before he could spill the rest of the wine. “A clumsy ghost right now.”

He yelped as Garrett poked him in the ribs. “Who is clumsy?”

“Hey now, that’s not fair.”

“Right, you can’t help being huge and tripping over things.”

Basso snorted. “Does he know the nickname you have among the Watch?”

Adrian narrowed his eyes at Basso. “I’ll assume you mean the nickname I got when I first joined, and it is not something anyone who considers me a friend would say to my face.”

August shot to his feet. “Alright, if everyone is finished eating why don’t we go to the parlor and discuss what’s to be done about the guild heads.”

“Gilded heads can fetch a good price,” Garrett noted as he attempted to make it to his feet.

Basso stood and followed August toward the door. Adrian followed suit, losing sight of Garrett as he moved past on his left side. He turned in time to see Garrett stumble and pitch forward.

Basso grabbed Garrett to keep him from falling. “Easy there, buddy. Take your time.”

Adrian came around to help but Garrett hadn’t let go of Basso yet and was instead patting him awkwardly. Adrian smirked seeing the confused look on Basso’s face as he returned the gesture.

“I’m your buddy?” Garrett said. “Friends. That means we are friends.”

“That’s right.”

“Can you make it to the parlor, Garrett?”

Garrett let go of Basso to look at Adrian. “Of course I can make it! It’s not like the house is on fire.”

“He says that as if he’s been in a burning house,” August said.

“I made it out of the Keep.”

“Barely. It took you a week to recover from that.”

“What happened?” Adrian looked from Garrett to Basso as he helped Garrett out of the room, watching carefully to make certain he didn’t run them both into the doorframe.

“A quarrel from the Thief-Taker and a ride in a safe,” Garrett said.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand why the floor is moving.” Garrett’s voice rose to the edge of panic and Adrian winced as Garrett’s grip tightened painfully on his arm. “Adrian, when did we get back on the ship? You promised no more ships.”

“It’s just the alcohol. We are still in August’s house.”

“August’s house smells like Dr. Troy’s but less fishy.”

“Well … I suppose that’s good to know,” August said with a wry smile as he opened the door to the parlor for them.

Adrian guided Garrett to one of the four wingback chairs arranged around the table in front of the fireplace and took the one nearest to Garrett for himself. It was almost too warm this close to the fire, but it felt good after being in the cold drafty Watch office all day. He sat down only to realize Garrett was watching him with a worried expression.

“I need a mask. I finally get invited to a ball and Harlan has sold my mask.”

“We can worry about that later,” Adrian said, then realized he’d missed something. He knew where the records were for the sales of the things the Watch had confiscated from the clock tower during the raid. If he had those records there must certainly be a record of where the money had gone. It certainly wasn’t in the Watch coffers. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn’t remember seeing a mask on the list of sold items. Had Harlan kept some of Garrett’s things?

“Adrian, are you listening?”

Adrian looked up, realizing August was speaking to him. “Sorry, was thinking about something. What did you need?”

“I asked if you had any suggestions for dealing with the guilds.”

“Reinstate them.”

“That’s not going to be possible. You’ll never convince Father.”

Adrian glowered. “Why not? If he’s truly worried about restoring the city, we need the guilds. He cannot expect the Watch and a handful of citizens to rebuild everything.”

“The bridge is getting rebuilt without the help of the guilds.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Basso interjected. “The men overseeing it were all part of the stonemason’s guild: Crowley and his boys. They’ve still got a shop over off Baron’s Way, just down from the Watch Station.”

“It didn’t burn?”

“I don’t think so,” Basso said with a shrug. “I don’t get down that way often.”

“Too far for old men.”

“I think I like it better when you don’t talk,” Basso said, the fondness in his smile taking the sting out of his words.

“I talk all the time.”

Basso sat in the chair on Garrett’s other side. “Maybe to yourself.”

“I am great company.”

“For a ghost,” Adrian said and then watched in shock as Garrett smiled at him and laughed. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding as if he’d just surfaced from a deep dive. Basso said something else but Adrian couldn’t make out the words, unwilling to tear his gaze away from Garrett. The smile lingered until Garrett yawned and shook himself.

Adrian leaned forward before stopping himself. He clenched his fingers around the smooth wooden armrests of his chair. Grabbing Garrett and kissing him in front of Basso and August would not be a smart idea. After what had happened on the ship he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Besides, Garrett was drunk and it would be disrespectful to do something like that while he wasn’t himself. Closing his eye he leaned back in the chair, wanting to just enjoy a quiet evening and dwell on finally learning how Garrett looked when he smiled. He wanted to sketch Garrett, capture that smile so he could look at it again and again. A soft touch on his face just below his eye patch startled him and he opened his eye again. Garrett leaned over him, the mismatched eyes seeming to search his face for something.

“What was that?”

“W-what?”

“The Primal, it … are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.” Adrian glanced away, unable to hold the concerned gaze. “Go sit before you fall down.”

The sudden weight on his lap sent a rush of tingles over his skin and he could have sworn there was a blue flash in his vision. Soft hair brushed against his neck as Garrett laid his head on Adrian’s chest. He let out a soft laugh and wrapped his arms around Garrett.

“Not exactly what I meant.”

“You were closer and you are warm.”

Adrian turned his head so he could kiss Garrett’s forehead. “As long as you are comfortable.”

There was a sleepy mumble.

“What was that?”

“You sound like the clock tower.”

“Creaky and full of birds?”

Adrian smiled at the soft laugh and ignored Basso’s incredulous stare, letting himself enjoy the rare moment. He remembered Garrett mentioning that he missed the sound of the clock tower whilst they were on the ship. Was that why Garrett had taken to sleeping curled up against him—because he was homesick and missed the ticking? He supposed it didn’t matter. It was enough that Garrett wanted to be near him.

Garrett was sound asleep on his lap by the time August and Basso had decided to see if Adrian’s suggestion might work.

Basso gave Adrian a final glare as Reginald helped him into his coat. “Don’t think for one moment I’m as easily manipulated as he is.”

Adrian bit back his retort and settled for nodding, his arms tightening around Garrett. The weight that had lifted with Garrett’s smile returned to settle in his gut, chilling him. He buried his face in Garrett’s hair, not lifting his head as August laid a hand on his shoulder. The door clicked shut a moment later and Adrian let go of the sigh he’d been holding.

Keeping his arms around Garrett he shifted them so he was more comfortable and closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to think. He wanted to enjoy getting to hold Garrett and having him close. He refused to believe he was being manipulative. He knew his feelings were genuine, and he also knew he’d never try to control Garrett. He’d never asked Garrett to stop being a thief or change how he did things to suit himself, and he never would. Even if it meant having to let him go.


	8. Chapter 8

Where were the shadows? The lights overhead blinded him and left nowhere to hide. Why couldn’t he move? Adrian did not recognize the room or the ghostly white figures that hovered around him, their faces blurred and indistinct. Someone spoke. Though the words escaped him, he knew they threatened him. The white figures moved around him and he tried to turn to get a better look but something gripped his head and held him fast. The phantoms simply blurred together. Pressure grew in his chest. He must get up. Something bad was going to happen.

A hand passed in front of his face and he recoiled seeing the surgical knife. He strained against the bonds, but there was no strength left in him. A light touch against his right cheek preceded the sudden stinging pain.

Adrian jerked awake, unsure at first if the soft cries were from the dream or not. Garrett shuddered and moaned again, trying to pull his head away from where it lay wedged between Adrian’s shoulder and the side of the chair. Adrian gently shifted them around and pulled him close, reaching up with his free hand to cradle Garrett’s head against his chest. He ran trembling fingers through Garrett’s sweat dampened hair. What exactly was Garrett dreaming about?

It had to have been Garrett’s dream. He’d recognized nothing. His own nightmares tended to feature Rozzen. There had been no Rozzen, yet he still struggled to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. Had that room been real? Whatever had happened in that room, it terrified Garrett almost more than Rozzen had. Was it someplace Rozzen had kept him trapped? It didn’t seem likely—there’d been no Dalibor. What had the knife meant? Rozzen wouldn’t have risked injuring Garrett like that. Besides, why would she use a surgical knife instead of one of her throwing knives? It had looked exactly like the ones August had in his workroom.

Garrett’s fear still crowded at the edges of his mind, demanding free rein. He pushed it back, imagining it fading into smoky wisps. He needed to calm himself so he didn’t distress Garrett further. Concentrating on matching his breathing to the quiet ticking of the clock over the mantelpiece, he combed his fingers through the soft, dark hair. By the time Garrett gradually relaxed against him, he could hear Reginald and Elsie moving about elsewhere downstairs getting things ready for the day.

Adrian pulled Garrett closer and rested his cheek on top of his head. If only they could actually enjoy being home instead of being haunted by what had happened to them. Too often he woke to Garrett whimpering in his sleep or found him pacing the room as if looking for escape. Other nights he found himself doing the same, wandering the house just to make sure he really was home and the dream was only that—a dream. Even the familiar noises of the City at times startled him into grasping for his sword. If only they could leave the memories behind the way they’d left Rozzen behind to rot.

Adrian closed his eyes and refused to allow himself to think of that woman. He wouldn’t sully this quiet moment thinking of her when he could be enjoying holding Garrett. Why would he think of her when he could think about Garrett’s smile? Even just the memory pasted a giddy smile on his face. He’d never thought he’d see it happen—if only it hadn’t been while Garrett was drunk. At least it had happened and very well might happen again, though part of him still regretted not kissing Garrett last night. Even after all this time, he clearly remembered what it had felt like to kiss him on the ship.

But he’d promised he wouldn’t do something like that again. Not unless he was certain Garrett truly wanted him to do so. Last night had given him a slim hope that it might someday happen, but it was not something he was going to pressure Garrett into. No matter what Basso said, Adrian knew he wasn’t manipulative. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and hugged Garrett to him.

Adrian came fully awake as the weight on him shifted and pressed against sensitive areas. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He still sat sprawled in the chair in the parlor, Garrett draped across his lap. Someone had been in to put fresh coals on the fire but apparently seen fit not to wake them. A shudder raced down Adrian’s legs as Garrett sat up, inadvertently putting even more pressure where none was needed. Normally he’d have been out of the bed and heading for the privacy of the bathroom before such things became an issue, but they’d never made it as far as the bed last night. No one could have pried him out of this chair once Garrett had curled up on his lap.

Garrett glanced around the room, then up at Adrian. “What …?”

Looking into the beautiful eyes, Adrian tried to smile and hoped to any god that cared to listen that Garrett hadn’t noticed certain things.

“Morning. Are you feeling alright?”

Garrett blinked several times, his expression shifting from surprised to wary and back again. He finally turned to put his feet on the floor, causing Adrian to have to bite his tongue rather forcefully to hold back a moan. No, now was not the time for his body to betray him. No thinking about how perfectly Garrett fit against him, or how he yearned to continue holding him, or how the long delicate fingers curved around the armrest.

Adrian let his eyes fall shut and leaned his head back as Garrett stood. A cold bath. A very cold bath was in order. Immediately.

Springing to his feet he jerked the door open and dashed out of the room.

“Adrian?”

“I’m late!”

“It’s your day off.” Garrett’s voice followed behind him.

Dammit. Adrian slowed, no longer taking the stairs two at a time.

“Right, so it is. I’ll just go change and take a bath. Still smell like wine. When I’m done I’ll see if Nate is home. We’ve got to get you a new outfit.”

 

Standing at the bottom of the stairs Garrett listened to Adrian’s hurried footsteps retreating to his room. That had been odd. The alarm he’d felt from Adrian hadn’t been like anything he’d ever sensed before. Had something upset him? And why had they been sleeping in the parlor? Had he actually slept the entire night on Adrian’s lap? He’d become accustomed to curling up beside Adrian as he slept, to waking with an arm looped around him and the gentle warmth of Adrian’s breath against his neck. He didn’t mind it—it had become comfortable. But this need to be near him was something new. What had happened last night?

His jaw slackened and he stumbled back a step. He’d got drunk. Not only that, but he vaguely remembered hugging Basso and laughing at something Adrian had said. He wanted to be furious with himself for losing control like that, but now he understood why Adrian had suggested trying the wine before the ball. That would have been a disaster given how little it had taken to strip him of any restraint.

A chill raced over him as he realized the loneliness he’d desperately tried to hide from for so long lingered much closer to the surface than he’d been willing to admit. As if what he’d thought to be metal was only painted glass. Erin had seen through him, seen how to use him to get what she’d needed. And then she’d left. All that talk about being family and when it came right down to it she’d never needed him, only what he could do for her. Would Adrian see through him too?

Perhaps going to the ball was a bad idea, but he’d already agreed to go. He had nearly three weeks left to prepare, and by that time he’d have a mask and a plan.

A blast of cold air hit him. Garrett whipped around, his weight poised on the balls of his feet. The new front door rebounded off the wall with a solid thud. August swept in, radiating frustration as he threw his medical bag down and ripped at the buttons on his overcoat.

“Master August, please let me help.” Reginald’s soothing tone did nothing to lessen August’s furious scowl.

“That murderous bastard! I’ll have him brought up on charges. I could have saved her and the infant. But no!” August’s tirade continued but Garrett no longer heard him, fixated on the bloodied white smock.

He stumbled backward, tripped, and sat down on the stairs with a jolt. Something hard and unyielding thumped against his spine. The sharp metallic scent of blood filled the air and the bitter taste of poppy milk coated his tongue. Spots crowded his vision as he pressed himself back. Parchment colored walls and cracked tiles were broken up by tall barred windows. Muffled screaming reached him from somewhere else in the ward. He was out of his room. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. White loomed over him, the smell of blood growing stronger. He didn’t remember leaving his room.

Raised voices beat down on him and he cowered, covering his head with his arms. He didn’t want to be sedated and shackled to his bed again. Tight bands constricted his chest, his lungs burning as he fought the urge to beg them not to confine him again so soon after he’d finally managed to move about on his own.

Hands gripped his arms and he jerked away, his head smacking against something. The hold on his arms vanished.

“Garrett, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re home. You’re with me.” The deep voice was rough at the edges, but he recognized it, clung to it. He was lifted and held close in a warm embrace. “That’s right. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you. I’m here. I’m here.”

Gulping down air, Garrett shuddered and blinked away the last of the fading images. He sat on the floor at the foot of the main staircase in August’s house, Adrian’s arms wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and let out a breath that turned into a soft groan. Had that been a memory? He pressed the heel of his hand against his right temple as his head throbbed. Surely not his memory. He’d only been to Moira to find clues about Erin. Why would seeing August’s white coat trigger one of Erin’s memories? That hadn’t happened since … since he’d last seen her, months ago. Once he’d woken on the deck of the Dawn’s Light any trace of her influence had been gone from his mind.

“Are you alright? Do you need some water?”

Garrett dipped his head and a few moments later a glass of water was pressed into his hand. He glanced up to find August crouched next to him. The white coat was gone, as was the smell of blood. Garrett sipped at the water hoping it would soothe both the ache in his throat and the queasiness in his gut. He leaned back and realized it was not the wall he sat against but Adrian, bare wet legs stretched out on either side of him. Had his awareness been so overtaken by—whatever that had been—that he’d not even been aware of being moved?

Warmth shot through him, invading his chest and setting his hands to tingling as the realization of what Adrian had done once again for him finally made its way through his scattered thoughts. He distracted himself with another sip of water. This was the kind of thing that got Adrian hurt. What if Adrian had fallen down the stairs in the rush to reach him? All over a memory that wasn’t even his.

He handed the empty glass back to August and started to try and get to his feet.

“No, you stay there for a little bit. I want to make sure you don’t have another episode like that. Adrian, are you okay sitting with him? Shall I get you a blanket?”

“I’m fine for now. No, Garrett, I agree with August. Please rest for a bit.”

“I’m fine.” Even to him the words rang hollow, his voice too shaky.

Adrian’s concern flooded the Primal, thick and heavy like syrup, coating the jagged edges of the lingering fear. He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the hazy gold warmth. Alarm pricked at the back of his mind. This could be much more dangerous than getting drunk. Adrian had been hurt too many times because of him.

“What happened?”

Garrett hesitated, unsure what to say or how much to reveal. Adrian had enough to worry about and this was something he couldn’t help with. It wasn’t as if he could brandish his sword and banish the visions. No, Garrett was going to have to deal with this on his own.

Adrian’s breath warmed his neck. “It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Between your nightmare this morning and this, you’ve got me a little worried.”

“It was … nothing. Nothing to worry about.” Did he sound as unconvincing to Adrian as he did to himself? “Weren’t you going to take a bath and go to Nate’s?”

“Ah yes. I left the tub running.” Adrian leaned forward then stopped, the stubble on his face grazing Garrett’s cheek. “You’re certain you are alright?”

“Stop asking.”

Adrian chuckled. “No, sorry. That won’t be happening. August, I’ll take Garrett upstairs and stay with him until I’m certain he’s not lying about being alright.”

“If anything changes let me know. And hurry up. You’re dripping water all over the floor.”

Garrett’s legs wobbled as he stood. He grabbed the banister to steady himself. Maybe their fears were better founded than he realized. He’d not expected to feel so drained. He’d almost made it two steps when he was lifted off his feet.

“Hey!”

“I’m not going to drop you and I’d rather you not attempt the stairs on your own when you look this unsteady.” Adrian’s concern still clung to every word, drowning the rest of Garrett’s protests.

He glanced up to find the warm green and gold gaze focused on him. If this pacified Adrian’s worry he wouldn’t resist the help. He caught himself reaching up to touch Adrian’s cheek and instead curled his hand against his own chest. He needed to stop calling attention to the scar. It was only one of many Adrian had garnered on the trip. Each one a vivid testament to everything Adrian had sacrificed for him.

Adrian reached the top of the stairs and abruptly halted, his left elbow clamping down against his hip. “Ah damn …”

Before Garrett could ask what was wrong Elsie came out of Adrian’s room.

“Master Adrian, you nearly—oh for pity’s sake! Master Adrian!” Elsie did an about face so quickly her mobcap nearly flew off her head.

“Sorry, Elsie.” Garrett looked up at the flustered tone and realized Adrian was bright red.

Elsie waved a hand, her back kept firmly to them as she headed the opposite direction towards August’s room. “I’ll thank you not to ask me to get that towel for you.”

Adrian sputtered a moment, the red spreading down his neck. “Of course not!”

Garrett heard her mutter something about the pay not being enough and needing time off as Adrian carried him into the bedroom and set him on his feet beside the bed. Garrett belatedly realized why they’d both gotten flustered. Adrian’s towel was nowhere to be seen, and the blush had traveled much further than his neck.

“I’ll just go finish my bath. Why don’t you sit down? I won’t be long.”

Garrett stared after Adrian, trying to dismiss the heavy fluttering sensation in his stomach as an aftereffect of the hallucination. Weakness invaded his limbs. Sitting down might be a good idea. Though maybe he should go make sure Adrian didn’t have another accident. He shook his head; what was he thinking? Adrian would be fine. Adrian wasn’t a child who needed watching over. No, it seemed he was the one who needed to be looked after like a child.

The flutters formed into a cold knot. He pulled out Adrian’s desk chair and sat down. Resting his elbows on the desk he dropped his head into his hands. Three more days and he could go check on Ector’s progress. Should he bring the eye straight back here to Adrian and have August oversee everything? He had to believe that it would work. That hope was the only thing that helped silence the condemning whispers in the back of his mind and all the ‘if onlys’ that plagued him.

Three more days and he could look at Adrian without seeing his own failure staring him in the face.


	9. Chapter 9

Dawn was just peeking through the high wispy clouds as Elsie made her way to Dayport. She adjusted her scarf over her nose again and tucked her hands inside her cloak. The bitter, sharp cold pierced all her layers of clothing and she wished she’d waited until it warmed a little before venturing out. Though this time of year the sun wouldn’t do much to warm anything.

Greystone Plaza would be her only stop today. The cold would keep most vendors and customers at home, but there were a few things she needed to restock before the weekend. Master August’s mood had not improved since the loss of the woman and child, and she hoped to find something to help take his mind off the tragedy. Hopefully, if Lord Barbeaux did as he promised, there’d be fresh fruits and vegetables and dairy by spring. She was so tired of eating dried fruit and pickled vegetables. She missed going to the open air market at St. Martin Fountain in Dayport and buying fresh flowers. Fresh roses, honeysuckle and lavender always helped to cover the sharp smells from Master August’s workroom. But nothing had grown well this year.

Baron’s Avenue was still choked with rubble and debris, and she was forced to take the side streets to get to Greystone. She met very few people as she walked down the street, though she was heartened to see a horse-drawn wagon with Adam’s Importation’s logo painted on the side. Just the sight of the horses cheered her. After months of the City being on the brink of collapse things seemed to be returning to normal.

Only two guards manned the Watch Gate in the Dayport wall. The younger of the two eyed her and stepped into her path.

“Where you off to so early of a morning, lass? It’s awful cold. Maybe you should stay here with us.” He leaned down over her with a leer.

“Have a care, guard. Your General is in a poor mood.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Randal Cunningham and Vernon Lewis, assigned to the Watch Gate at Dayport for the month of January. I watched him write up the assignments. I can tell him you think this posting’s too easy and you’d rather drag corpses out the sluices? Can’t have you wasting away or getting bored.”

The guard blanched and stepped back so fast he nearly tripped over himself.

“Enjoy your morning, ma’am. Please give General Barbeaux my regards.”

Elsie smiled at him and continued on her way. Greystone Plaza had somehow escaped the worst of the destruction, the stone and brick buildings giving little indication of the riots. A sizable crowd for the time and the weather milled about the open space and she spotted a cart with fresh wild game. That would certainly be a welcome addition to their dinner menu.

A few moments later she had a delivery receipt for two brace of pheasants and the odd sensation someone was watching her. Pretending to readjust her hood she scanned the crowd but didn’t immediately notice anyone watching her. Shrugging it off she headed toward JW’s shop and tried to remember the different herbs she wanted to buy. Some of Reynard’s hot coffee would be just the thing right about now, but would have to wait. She’d not expected it to be this busy and wanted to make sure she got the tea first.

The clash of sharp smells had her nose itching as she entered the shop. There were already several other customers milling about as they waited their turn. At a familiar twitter from the direction of counter Elsie slipped behind a tall gentleman. She peered around him and glowered as she recognised Nettie, Lord Marlham’s maid. She’d get the herbs and tea on her way back. It was not worth her time if Nettie spotted her. She’d be here the rest of the morning listening to her prattle on about the Marlhams. If Nettie had any common sense rolling around in her head Elsie might have gotten some information out of her, but the daft woman was as thick as curdled milk.

Closing the door softly behind her she headed back across the plaza. Any other day she might have gone to the Watch office to make certain Master Adrian had remembered his lunch. She stopped and covered her eyes with a soft sigh. She’d give anything to erase the image of the previous morning from her mind. Helping Master August tend to patients was one thing, but happening upon Master Adrian in the buff quite another.

That strange crawling sensation was back, creeping along between her shoulder blades. She kept her hand over her eyes but spread her fingers and glanced around. No one in her immediate area was paying her any attention, but that didn’t mean anything. Raising her hand to adjust her hood she turned as if to make sure her cloak wasn’t dragging the ground and scanned the crowd.

Furtive movement between two carts caught her attention. It had to be a mistake. No one would be interested in her. Even as she thought it a dozen reasons why someone might follow her bubbled to the surface like dumplings in a stewpot. She had to treat this as a genuine threat. First she needed to know for certain if she was being followed.

Looking around the plaza again she spotted a tobacconist’s booth. She’d not smoked a pipe since getting the job with Master August but it couldn’t hurt to look, and it might throw off whoever was following her.

The portly man running the booth eyed her but didn’t say anything as she looked over the clay pipes. She wouldn’t have bought one anyway; poorly made they wouldn’t last the month. One already had a crack in the bowl. She set it back down and turned away. There, to her right. Someone ducked behind some crates stacked near an alley.

She needed to be certain. Weaving her way through the growing crowd she headed back across the plaza to the shops opposite the alley. She started up the steps to the general store, but instead of entering she turned and followed behind two women coming out of the shop. Keeping a few paces behind them she kept watch on the crowd. A grim smile pulled at her lips as a man dressed like a dockworker stopped at the bottom of the steps and peered around. What was a dockworker doing this far from the docks at this time of the morning? His clothes were shabby but his beard neatly trimmed, as was his hair, and he wore shiny new boots and a clean blue scarf around his neck. Trying to appear poor then, but not willing to forego warm shoes on a cold day.

Leaving the two women she stopped at a booth offering knife sharpening. A few kitchen knives were laid out for display. Elsie picked up the largest knife and angled it so that she could see the crowd reflected behind her. No dock workers lingered nearby. The cold knot in her stomach eased a bit. Satisfied the man was not behind her she handed the knife back.

“How much?”

“Two gold, and be careful. That thing is sharp enough to cut through bone.”

“Good. I’ll take it.” She handed over the coins and took the now sheathed knife from him. She’d needed a new carving knife ever since the twin boys from next door had used hers to practice knife throwing. A slight pang misted her eyes as she realized she’d never again be yelling at them to get out of the yard. More victims of the Graven.

Instead of heading into the crowd she strode between the booths and walked along the narrow path between the wall and the sellers’ goods with her head up as if she belonged there. Stopping behind a weaver’s booth she unsheathed the knife and waited, her fingers tight around the hilt. Whatever these men were after they weren’t going to get it easy. She might not be a seasoned fighter like Master Adrian but she was not about to let her fear get the better of her. She’d stood her ground with Master August and Master Adrian during the riots and helped the wounded; she could surely dodge a couple of thugs.

Blue Scarf walked by on the other side of the booth but had his head turned away from her, scanning the crowd. He stopped and scratched at his beard then let out a whistle. A few moments later two other men joined him. One wore the livery of a coachman, complete with hat, while the third looked more like a beggar with torn clothes and unkempt hair. He wrapped his arms around himself and stamped his feet. He scowled at his companions but Elsie couldn’t make out what he was saying over the din of the crowd.

Blue Scarf made a cutting gesture and Shabby glared but shut his mouth. So, Blue Scarf must be in charge then. Their attire gave her little clue as to who they might be or who who’d sent them. Not that it mattered. If it had just been Blue Scarf she might have thought about confronting him, but not all three of them.

She needed to get home and tell Master August what was going on. After everything that had happened she didn’t want to take any chances with their safety. She might be a maid but she was not going to be a pawn in someone’s power game. Taking a sharp breath, the cold air burning its way down her throat, she walked between the booths and back into the growing throng.

A hand grabbed her elbow and she stiffened, ready to lash out.

“Good morning, Elsie.”

Elsie dropped her hand and looked up, squinting against the morning sunlight. Shading her eyes from the glare she recognized Valériane. “Oh! Good morning, Miss Fauvre. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Valériane smiled and Elsie noticed she wore a touch more color today. Her eyes were lightly outlined with khol, the lids tinted a mauve that warmed the normally steely grey.

“I thought as much. I didn’t mean to startle you. Where are you headed next?” Valériane glanced back over her shoulder as she asked.

“I was going home to avoid some strays.”

“The motley trio now quietly arguing over by the fountain?”

“If one of them is wearing a blue scarf, then yes.”

Valériane nodded and letting go of Elsie’s elbow instead slipped her arm around Elsie’s.

“Would you like to join me for some coffee this morning?”

Elsie just barely kept herself from glancing over at the men. “I suppose.”

“Don’t worry. They aren’t going to do anything while I am here.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I want to find out why they are following me.”

“I suppose that’s what the new knife was for?”

Elsie looked up hearing the amused tone and grinned. “I can debone a turkey in under five minutes; I know my way around a knife.”

“That I don’t doubt. Let’s go get some coffee and we can keep an eye on them. I have a feeling today isn’t the last we’ll see of them.”

That was what Elsie feared. Politics reminded her of crows fighting over a carcass. There weren’t anything left but scraps, but they didn’t care. They’d rather rip the City apart than see anyone else have it. There were any number of reasons why these men might be interested in her. She knew everything that went on in Master August’s house and that meant she knew a great deal about the inner workings of the Watch and how things stood in the City. That information was worth more than gold right now.

She huddled closer to Valériane as trembles overtook her. What had she been thinking? This was no game.

Valériane led her through the crowd toward Reynard’s. A steady stream of people came and went through the door. Elsie wondered if they were too late to get any coffee as it sold out quickly anytime a new shipment arrived. That would be just her luck this morning.

Valériane had her wait just inside the door and, bypassing the line, went to the counter and had a quick word with the man. He nodded. Grabbing something from under the counter he handed it to Valériane. She smiled as she made her way back over to Elsie.

“Here, they are about out of coffee but he had these. I think you might like them.” Valériane held out a small bag.

Elsie took it and opened it; the thick scent of chocolate mingled with the woody smell of coffee. “What is it?”

“Something new they just got in from Throvia. Chocolate covered coffee beans.”

“These must cost a fortune!” Elsie closed the bag, ready to hand it back when Valériane put a hand over hers.

“He gave them to me because he owes me a favor. Now they are yours, and he’ll have some coffee ready for you when we leave. Go ahead and try one.”

Elsie couldn’t resist any longer and took one out. The sweet of the chocolate counteracted most of the bitter from the coffee bean and the flavors mixed beautifully.

“Oh … that’s good.”

“I thought you’d like it. When we are done here, I’ll walk you home.”

“Thank you but I really don’t want to trouble you—”

“Elsie, you and I both know you are in danger. You gave away your identity at the gate and let them know they were following the right person.”

Elsie let the bean she’d just picked up drop back into the bag, the flavors on her tongue sour and oily now. Valériane was right. In her need to put the guards in their place she’d messed up.

“How long have you been following me?” She didn’t look up at Valériane.

“I boarded the ferry with you.”

“Oh.” It came out very soft and Elsie blinked as the shop closed in around her, noises muffled by the thumping in her ears.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

“I don’t understand. I’m just a maid.”

“I think we both know that’s not true. You are the Watch General’s maid and privy to a lot of sensitive information. Besides that, you ditched them, nearly ditched me and were ready to defend yourself. You might be a maid but you are also quite brave and resourceful.”

Elsie shook her head. “I should have been more careful.”

“Maybe so, but nothing came of it.” Valériane put a hand on Elsie’s arm and leaned down. “Why don’t we get some breakfast and we can talk.”

“I would like that.”


	10. Chapter 10

Adrian scrubbed his fingers through his hair and shifted around where he sat in his bed propped up against the headboard. The early morning bustle on the street outside had died down as the day wore on, and now only an occasional wagon rattled by. He glanced toward the empty spot where Garrett had been sleeping. Adrian had dozed off earlier and woken to find him gone. He’d managed to talk himself out of getting up to go track Garrett down. August had cautioned that he needed to give Garrett space, and after the last couple of days he wondered if they both needed it.

Sleep had become as hard to catch as morning fog. Anytime he closed his eyes all he could see were ghostly afterimages, dark halls and white-robed figures. Almost two days, and still the vision lingered, compounded by the recurring nightmares. His own were being eclipsed by Garrett’s. He didn’t remember them as clearly as his own nightmares, but Dalibor’s face and the helpless terror had him waking in a panic every time. He wasn’t certain anymore which was worse: the nightmare, or waking to the realization Garrett had actually suffered those things.

He shook himself, and tried once again to focus on the book he had been reading while waiting for Garrett to wake. Nathaniel should be arriving anytime to take measurements for the tailor. He glanced around the room again, noting that Garrett hadn’t touched the tea tray and breakfast Elsie brought up earlier.

Before he’d realized it, he’d shut the book and got up to go look for Garrett.

No, he’s not helpless, Adrian reminded himself. Garrett did not need him hovering about watching his every move. He couldn’t give Basso any more reason to claim he manipulated Garrett. If Garrett wanted him, he’d be there, but he couldn’t keep rushing to Garrett’s side anytime the Primal flickered or he got worried. But no matter what he told himself, he knew that he’d still do anything to help Garrett.

He sat back down and opened the book. The procedures manual for the Watch wasn’t exactly light reading but he had to know what he was doing.

He glanced up as someone knocked on the door. August frowned at him as he entered the room.

“Nathaniel is here.”

“Took him long enough.”

August glanced around the room, no doubt cataloguing the general disarray. Books, clothes, a few sketches and several old cups of tea lay scattered about. “Have you been having trouble sleeping again? I know Garrett’s episode the other day took its toll on you.”

Adrian balked at answering the question. He didn’t want August thinking he was unfit for duty. If he decided Adrian’s focus was too centered on Garrett he might remove him from his post, even though he barely did more than shuffle paperwork.

“Are you still having nightmares?” August gestured to the book in Adrian’s hands. “Reading that would be enough to give anyone nightmares.”

“It’s not a joke, August.”

“I know, but I also know that you have your own nightmares to handle without helping Garrett deal with his.”

Adrian tossed the book onto the bed and started for the door. “My nightmares are nothing compared to his. He relives what Rozzen did to him. Weeks, August. Weeks of torture. A day or two of my own torment is nothing in comparison.”

“Who is comparing, Adrian? You both suffered and are still suffering. I can give you something to help you sleep.”

“No … no, I want to be able to wake up in case he needs me.”

August gripped Adrian’s shoulder, the look in his eyes pleading. “You know you can come to me if you need to talk.”

Adrian mustered a small smile. “I know.”

 

August’s large workroom always felt cramped to Adrian, and he found himself ducking his head to avoid the overhead fixtures. The floor to ceiling cabinets along one wall were full of various tools, medicines and elixirs, cabinets stuffed with patients’ files along the other. A small desk huddled under mounds of files, papers and bound medical volumes at the far end near the windows. Printed diagrams covered any leftover space on the walls, some with August’s handwriting along the edges. Several vases of fresh cut narcissus and freesia helped lessen the typically eye-stinging stench. The pristine and shining operating table and newly installed overhead lamps dominated the middle of the room like a metal altar. The bed and chair that had used to occupy the space were now shoved under the window behind the desk. Casualties of progress.

Currently Nathaniel and Garrett stood in front of the table. Adrian felt himself grinning as he looked at Garrett. There was an unusual sparkle to Garrett’s eyes as he stood atop a box while Nathaniel measured him.

“Nate is going to put in extra pockets for me.” The soft voice held a note of delight that Adrian had never heard before. “Did you know that the heirs of House Sterling will be there?”

“Ah yes, I made the mistake of telling him that they are looking to make a grand impression and are rumored to have brought their family’s prized heirloom jewelry set out of storage,” Nathaniel said as he rolled up the strip of tape and then jotted down some notes on a pad of paper.

“If I’d known where they’d stored it, they’d wouldn’t have it to wear now.”

Nathaniel chuckled and gestured for Garrett to get down. “Of that I have no doubt. I shouldn’t be enabling you like this. Piracy seems much safer.”

“Personally, I don’t care if he robs them all blind.” The comment got Adrian a dirty look from August and a sly grin from Nathaniel. “They were all too happy to stay safely on their side of the river while the rest of the City fell into ruin. It’s only fair they get a taste of what it feels like.”

“For that we’d need to serve them sloop too. I’ve heard the horror stories from Basso,” Nathaniel said with a shudder. “As satisfying as divesting them of every last trinket would be, Ambrose needs their backing to become Baron.”

“Not only that, but if anything goes missing during the ball Ambrose and Amaury will instantly know it’s you, Garrett,” August pointed out as he picked up one of the drawings Nathaniel had brought with him. Adrian peered over his shoulder at the sketch.

“You act like I’m the only thief in the City.” Adrian smiled at Garrett’s flippant tone. Garrett took the sketch from August and peered at it for a moment. “I want to keep the coattails—and don’t worry, I won’t do anything to damage Ambrose’s standing. Anything that goes missing at the ball won’t be my doing.”

“Coattails were last season,” Nathaniel muttered as he wrote down another note. “It will take the tailor a week to get this started. I’ll need you available after that for fittings.”

“Fine.” Garrett handed the drawing to Nathaniel who carefully rolled it up and packed it in the satchel laying on the worktable.

“August, did you go talk to the guild heads?” Nathaniel asked once he’d put away his things.

“The ones I could track down, yes.”

“Good. I have some things you are going to want to know before the ball. There are a couple of noble houses we will want to have backing your father if he does indeed plan to become Baron.”

Adrian followed the pair out of the workroom and into the parlor. Garrett disappeared along the way. Probably in the opposite direction to the library. As much as Adrian wanted to join him, he had to know what information Nathaniel and August had uncovered. Ambrose becoming Baron would mean a sizable influx of funds for the Watch, and that meant he could start restoring true order to the City.

Nathaniel walked to the windows and looked out the frosted panes to the street. Adrian went to add more wood to the dying fire, hoping to stave off the cold drafts, though something more than the temperature of the room had chills racing through him. The City had already started grinding down the dandy pirate, the flourishes and grand gestures now tempered and restrained.

“Is everything alright, Nate?” he ventured to ask as Nathaniel continued to stare out the window.

A soft sigh fogged the window and Nate lowered his head. “It will be. I hope. I didn't realize the state of things here.”

“It's chaos,” August offered as he settled into a seat near the fire.

“Chaos would imply no malevolence at work. Someone or several someones are working very hard to make sure things stay as they are.”

“That makes no sense!” Adrian said with a growl. “Do they want to see the City become a ruin?”

“I don't know what they want, but they certainly do not want Ambrose in power. House Sterling will make a bid as will House Marlham. House Sterling is one of the oldest houses and Lord Sterling is young and ambitious. With Northcrest dead and no known living heirs, the title will go to whomever has the most influence. Currently that is Barbeaux and Marlham. Lord Sterling has been working very hard to discredit both. This ball could make or break several reputations.”

“So what do we need to do?” August said.

Nathaniel finally turned away from the window, dark blue eyes glimmering in the firelight. “You and your brothers are bait. None of you are married and you all stand to inherit a great deal. Lord Sterling’s sister has just come of age. Get her to pledge her ties to Barbeaux and the other Houses on the margins may just follow.”

“Use a young woman's affections to gain access to her brother?” Just saying it left a sour taste in Adrian's mouth.

“Well we know who not to have dance with her.” August gave Adrian a small smile that quickly faded and he looked away. “Amaury would be best. He's got a way with the ladies.”

“Just so long as he remembers she's not a docktrollop,” Nathaniel said with a shake of his head.

“Amaury isn't stupid ... most of the time.” August grimaced. “Are you certain there's not another way?”

“Of course there is but it will take longer and be expensive.”

“What's that?”

“You need to recruit all the guild heads and see to it that they reinstate the guilds. With Northcrest gone, the Watch no longer has a reason to break up their meetings and arrest their members. Show them that Barbeaux has their interests at heart and then you'll have their support.” Nathaniel moved to take the seat next to August, leaving Adrian to stand.

“Shouldn’t we do both? To be safe?” Adrian leaned against the wall near the door, careful of the painting hanging there. “I know many of these men and they know I am true to my word. August, if you could just give me the funds to repair Watch houses, hire new guards, and restore order, I could show them that the Barbeaux are serious about rebuilding the City.”

August closed his eyes and rubbed the fingers of his right hand along his forehead. “I don’t have the funds, Adrian. Not personally and Ambrose is too busy trying to hold on to what he has to help.”

Adrian shoved away from the wall. “What about the money Harlan stole? All the Black Tax contributions he extorted? If I can find that …?”

He stopped as August shook his head, his shoulders slumping at the look on his brother’s face.

“Adrian, that was months ago. I highly doubt any liquid assets have survived.”

“I think some might have. We never recovered a lot of the stuff he stole from Garrett.” Nathaniel snorted at that, but didn’t interrupt. “I’ve been going through all the Watch records and Captain Leonard is helping me track down the men who helped gather the Black Tax to see if we can find out where the money went.”

August raised his head, eyebrows furrowed. “You started an investigation?”

Adrian shifted his weight and glanced at Nathaniel. “Er … yes. I thought it might be a good idea to find out what happened to Garrett’s things.”

“Like how you tracked down that necklace and stole it from that poor woman, scaring her half to death in the process?”

“She gave it to me freely of her own will!”

August glared. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Stop laughing, Nathaniel.”

“Forgive me. It was just so amusing. She considers Adrian her saviour now. Do this right, Adrian, and the whole City will think the same.”

The thought rocked Adrian back on his heels. “What? I just …”

Nathaniel spoke up as the room went silent. “You wanted to get Garrett’s things back?”

Adrian shrugged, not sure he wanted to voice the fact that his desire to repair the City was more for Garrett’s benefit than the rest of the inhabitants. Was it selfish of him? Probably. Though he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I want the City whole again, like it was before we left. before Northcrest sucked the life out of it.”

“Alright.” August said, and got to his feet. “If you find these Black Tax funds then I will give you the responsibility of seeing them dispersed appropriately. And I do mean appropriately. I want a ledger handed in every week of all transactions and—”

“Hold up, August.” Adrian raised both his hands in an attempt to ward off being given any more paperwork. “Can we figure all that out _after_ I find them?”

August crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose that makes sense. Though wasn’t Harlan married? What of his widow?”

“He was married?!” Adrian gaped at August. From what he’d seen of Harlan he couldn’t imagine any woman willingly marrying such a fiend.

August raised his eyebrows, but a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “Maybe you better brush up on your detective skills before you go around trying to unravel all his dealings.”

“Stuff it, I can do this.”

“If it keeps you out of trouble then I am all for it.”

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

The rope hissed through Siskin’s gloved hands as she coiled it with quick, precise movements.

“You’ve got two hours before we head back to the Auldale side.”

Garrett nodded. Two hours would be more than enough time to get to Ector’s and back. He eased back against the stone wall and into the meager shadow as Linnet came down the stairs, a small crate in her arms.

“How many more of these are there? If there are too many he’ll have to wait,” Linnet said as she handed the crate off to Siskin.

“They said seven.”

Linnet groaned. “There are at least fifteen up there.”

“Two hours?” Garrett shifted forward a step, not wanting to waste any more time.

“Two hours. We’ll get you back across then, as long as they don’t deliver any more crates and you’ve got the coin.” Siskin shook her head and then jumped from the boat to the dock in a single adroit movement that didn’t even make waves.

Garrett turned away. His own exit from the boat had been clumsy at best. Pulling his hood closer about his face he started up the steps, careful of the ice-coated wood. He knew his limits, or at least he had at one time. Even now, just walking up the steps he could feel the strain in his muscles, the hint of weakness that trembled at the edges of everything, the tiredness that never quite left no matter how much he slept. Why couldn’t the Primal heal that? The wounds on his wrists and ankles had healed weeks ago, but the scars remained to remind him just how vulnerable he was. The nightmares only served to deepen the uncertainty and self-doubt that now haunted his every decision. Waking from them to the sound of Adrian’s deep voice telling him he was safe was a double-edged blade. He wanted the reassurance, but not at the cost of Adrian’s own well-being. He couldn’t keep making the same mistakes that had nearly killed him and Adrian both. Mistakes that had cost him Erin as well.

He shoved the thoughts aside. Erin had made her choice in the end and now he was making his. Adrian’s new eye wouldn’t absolve him of the nagging guilt but it might help ease it.

 

Garrett swallowed a cough as he entered Ector’s shop. The sharp astringent smell caught in the back of his throat. Several lamps burned in addition to the overhead lights, though they seemed to add only to the stench rather than the illumination. A bucket of some unidentifiable liquid sitting at the corner of the workbench seemed to be the culprit, the surface slick and oily.

Ector sat hunched behind his workbench, oblivious to Garrett’s entrance. He doubted a whole squad of Watchmen could have roused Ector from his work. He stepped closer to the disturbingly clean desk and frowned at the sight of all the miniscule gears and components neatly lined up across a piece of canvas. Catching sight of a sheet of parchment under the canvas Garrett snagged the corner and eased it out from underneath. Smeared ink drawings littered the page along with notations. Garrett didn’t need to read them to see that Ector had had difficulty figuring out how the eye worked.

Resisting the urge to crumple the paper he set it back down on the workbench.

“You see my troubles, do you, Master Thief?” Ector was peering at him, one eye disturbingly large behind the magnifying lens. He set down the small tube he’d been examining and picked up the now hollow sphere, turning it over in his hand. “So small and delicate. Intricate and essential. So essential. This … this little device was truly a marvel. I have despaired of learning all its secrets though.”

He set the eye down and waved his hand over the scattered parts. “These are the ones that survived. Some were so rusted they crumbled when I touched them. I made certain to draw everything as I saw it, but the way it works still eludes me.”

Garrett took a step back from the bench, jaw clenched. “You can’t fix it.”

Ector sighed heavily and reached up to take the contraption off his head. He set it down on the table with a thump and then ran thin fingers through wispy hair.

“It’s not a matter of fixing it because I assure you, could it be fixed I would have done so. No. Fixing it is no longer possible. Like this miserable City, it is beyond fixing. It must be rebuilt.” Ector started into another of his rants, no longer talking to Garrett but at some imagined audience.

Rebuilt. From what? Garrett took another step toward the door, his gaze travelling around the workshop. There were more automatons than last time he’d been here, piled along the walls like the Watch had piled the victims of the Gloom. A few faced toward the door, their heads bent at odd angles. Just as blind as the dead, their empty sockets stared back at him. One in particular caught his attention, the side of its head charred and rent down one side. Blinking he swallowed against the dry ache in the back of his throat.

“But never you fear, Master Thief!” Ector’s squawking exclamation jerked Garrett’s attention from the maimed automaton. “This is still valuable as a priceless artifact, a stunning example of lost technology. Working or not it is something to be treasured. Now, I know we’ve done business in the past, but my services are not free.”

“Services? You didn’t fix it.”

“No, but it still cost me time I could have used working on my metal men, and my time is so very precious.”

“I don’t—” Garrett started then stopped himself. He had nothing to his name. Nothing he was willing to part with to pay for a jumble of unuseable metal. Clenching his fists he turned to the door. “Keep it. It’s useless to me now.”

 

Outside, the close confines of the Gullet pressed down on him. He glanced toward the stairs then at the ladder. Above the rooftops he could just make out the stars through wisps of clouds. At least it wasn’t snowing. If only he could go home and clear his head. He started for the ladder. At least Adrian would never know. Not have to suffer having his hopes crumble in front of him again. Jumping for the ladder his outstretched hand smacked into the stonework just short of the first rung. He fell back, stumbling before he could catch his balance. On the second try he caught the rung and hauled himself up, his palm stinging and muscles trembling.

A crate at the top offered a handy spot to sit. A single ladder climb and he was shaking and out of breath. He hadn’t even had this much trouble on the bridge. Maybe it didn’t have anything do with his physical condition. He dismissed the thought. He was tired and hungry and while the loss of the eye was a setback it wasn’t going to matter because Adrian had no idea.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, Garrett dropped his head into his hands. August’s voice whispered in the back of his head, “With his injury he is more a liability … Until he’s used to working with limited vision I cannot give him anything but an office position.”

The situation wore at Adrian. Garrett could feel it as keenly as he felt the cold that permeated his outfit, seeping into his bones. He resisted the desire to reach out through the Primal to see if Adrian was asleep. Adrian needed every moment of sleep he could get. The stress of rebuilding the Watch, dealing with nightmares—both his own and Garrett’s—and being expected to help his family’s political situation, all of it exhausted Adrian. Even if it weren’t for the Primal, Garrett was certain he’d have noticed. The bright sparkle in the green eyes he remembered from when they’d first met had dimmed.

Straightening, Garrett shoved himself to his feet. Sitting here accomplished nothing. Up the wall and into the narrow space between the buildings he stopped to crouch at the edge of the roof and looked toward the Crippled Burrick. Or what was left of it. No one had the funds to repair it and it was too damaged from the fire to remain open. He dropped off the roof with a grunt and looked around again. The only sound came from the rustle of wind-blown leaves and the occasional thud of a loose shutter. No Watchmen. No Graven. No beggars.

Walking across the Plaza he tried to keep his mind from wandering, but everywhere he looked something reminded him of how this had all started. The wind was stronger here without the close confines of the Gullet to protect him. By the time he’d made it across the Plaza he was shivering. If only he still had Adrian’s cloak. But he’d lost it crossing the bridge, unable to keep hold of it against the wind.

He glanced toward the Burrick. He couldn’t see the window he and Basso had escaped through that day, rubble and debris blocking the alley, but he still remembered Adrian draping the cloak around him. The hesitant smile and gentle teasing and his own confusion. Even then, knowing nothing of each other, Adrian had risked himself, his career and the only family he had. Why he continued helping even after everything, still eluded Garrett. Even now there was nothing in it for Adrian. Just his sense of duty, and his guilt over something he never spoke of.

Garrett let himself into the Watch Council Office even though he’d intended to head on over to his rendezvous with Linnet and Siskin. Instead he ended up at the desk on the second floor. More stairs. Did they give Adrian trouble too? Pale light from the street lamps gave the room a surreal, shadowy look as if something from a half-remembered dream. Out of habit he checked all the drawers. A couple of loose coins. Hopefully enough for the return trip across the river.

The top of the desk was clear of papers. Only a typewriter, inkwell and pens and a couple of official seals sat out, though it seemed Adrian had moved everything to the right so he could easily see it. He picked up the pen and turned it over in his fingers. Basso would probably give him three coins for it; things weren’t worth what they used to be even a few months ago. He set it back down, careful to return it to its exact spot. He could almost hear Basso chiding him for not taking everything of value from the desk. Any other desk, and he would have.

A band of pain wrapped around Garrett’s ribs and squeezed. He shouldn’t have come here. Garrett started for the window around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Even for all the times he’d told himself the eye probably wouldn’t work, he’d somehow begun to think of it as a certainty. Had he placed too much confidence in Ector, or had he been a fool to ever think it would work?

One leg out the window Garrett paused, the sash digging into his shoulder. Rozzen’s gloating tone floated around him. “You were actually trying to save him, weren’t you? Well, you failed rather spectacularly at that. Oh yes, you tried so very hard, didn’t you. But you’re just a thief. What did you expect to be able to do?”

He shuddered and closed his eyes. He should stay away. Go stay with Basso until the weather cleared and he could safely climb the clock tower. He couldn’t help Adrian and his presence would only get him hurt. Again. Adrian wanted so badly to restore the Watch and the City. Garrett’s mere presence in his life was a liability, a burden Adrian no longer needed. Adrian had done so much for him and there was no way to repay him for any of it. Not with the mechanical eye useless, and now gone altogether.

He pushed the window up, ready to step back inside the office, but stopped before he could clamber through. He’d not missed the way Basso’s comments in the hall had hurt Adrian. They’d stung him as well at the time. That Basso thought he’d be better off having died than meeting Adrian drew the vice about his chest a notch tighter.

If Garrett had died from the poison, Adrian would never have had to suffer any of the things that had happened to them. Maybe Basso was right. Rozzen had been willing to go right through Adrian to get to him. But she was gone now.

If he didn’t return Adrian would panic and come searching for him. Garrett shifted forward, stepped through the window and let it drop shut behind him. He might not be of any use to Adrian, but he wasn’t going to be the cause of more pain. Not when he could help it.

 

 

The floorboards creaked as Adrian walked the length of his room and back again. He knew if he didn’t stop pacing soon August was going to come in and force him to take a sedative. He couldn’t stop. Garrett wasn’t in the house and no one had seen him for hours. He glanced at the clock again. Almost midnight. Had Garrett gone to see Basso? If he had then he wouldn’t be back till after dawn when the Watch ferries resumed running. Maybe he’d finally decided to listen to Basso and stay in Stonemarket. Surely he’d have said something though? Given him some sort of assurance that he’d be alright.

Adrian came to a stop in front of the window he normally left open for Garrett, the one that overlooked the alley leading around to the rear yard. It was still open even now, a trickle of cold air seeping through. Behind him the door opened. He turned.

“I’m sorry, August, I’ll—Garrett!” Adrian started towards him then stopped. The thief slipped to the side, hands tucked under his arms, shoulders hunched.

“I thought you’d be asleep.” Adrian frowned at the barely audible murmur. Garrett didn’t look up and didn’t move from his spot against the wall.

Concern shot through Adrian. Had something happened? Crossing the room Adrian put his hand on Garrett’s shoulder. Garrett’s skin was icy under his hand, the cold radiating up his forearm.

“You are freezing!”

He wanted to pull Garrett close but he needed a blanket and probably a hot bath. First the equipment had to go. Garrett relinquished his bow and quiver without comment. Adrian set them inside the wardrobe along with the small selection of supplies Garrett had stashed there. Taking the blanket off his bed he draped it over Garrett, pulling up a section of it to cover his head. He leaned down so they were eye to eye. Garrett wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

Garrett allowed himself to be bundled over to the fireplace and sat in a chair. Adrian rang the bell and desperately hoped Elsie wouldn’t kill him for waking her so late. Hot tea would hopefully help bring some color back to Garrett that wasn’t blue or purple.

Kneeling in front of where Garrett sat Adrian took one of his hands, rubbing it between his own.

“Can I ask where you’ve been and if you are alright?”

“I’m fine. I went to Stonemarket.”

“Without your cloak?”

The mismatched gaze flickered upwards but didn’t meet his. He watched as Garrett pressed his lips together and seemed to shrink in on himself. Garrett raised his free hand to the corner of the blanket above his forehead, tugging on it until all Adrian could see was his mouth and the tip of his nose.

“It was stolen.”

“Stolen. From you?”

The blanket dipped. When Garrett spoke his voice was even softer than normal, the words too deliberate and practiced. “I left it on the back of a booth at the Siren’s Rest. Someone walked off with it.”

Adrian frowned and reached for Garrett’s other hand, startled to realize his own fingers trembled. Why would Garrett lie about his cloak? Had he fenced it? He clutched Garrett’s hands between his own, willing him to look up, needing reassurance that Garrett wasn’t lying about something so inconsequential. Had he done something to abuse Garrett’s trust, to make him feel the need to lie? His thoughts raced back over the last several days but nothing immediately came to mind. He focused on rubbing some warmth back into Garrett’s hands, but the nagging ache wouldn't leave. He finally cleared his throat to speak.

“Garrett, if you needed money all you had to do was ask. I know it was an expensive garment, but …” He trailed off as Garrett’s shoulders shook under the blanket, his head dropping even lower.

“I didn’t fence it.” The broken whisper caught Adrian off guard.

“Okay. I believe you. I’m going to go run a warm bath for you. Stay here.”

With silence his only answer Adrian stood and looked down at the huddled figure. Maybe once he was warm and comfortable Garrett would feel more like talking. Though Adrian wasn’t about to interrogate him on his whereabouts or why he was lying.

Elsie was waiting at the door when he came out of the bathroom.

“I’m sorry for waking you. Could you please fetch Garrett some hot tea, and something warm to eat?”

Elsie gave the lump of blankets a perplexed look but nodded. “Yes, Master Adrian, don’t you worry. I’ve got just the thing to warm him up. It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.”

Once she was gone, Adrian coaxed Garrett out of the blanket. He no longer looked as frozen but he still wouldn’t look up, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“Do you need my help with anything?” Adrian kept his voice gentle, not wanting to make matters worse.

Garrett closed his eyes and shook his head. Unlacing his fingers he got to his feet and started for the bathroom. Garrett stumbled mid-stride and Adrian leapt forward, worried he was about to collapse. He didn’t pull away as Adrian put an arm around his shoulders; to his surprise Garrett leaned into him. He smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on top of the bowed head.

“Exciting night?”

Garrett stiffened but didn’t pull away. “Not exactly.”

“No new treasures to show off?”

“No.” Now Garrett did pull away, his tone as frosty as the tips of his fingers.

“I’m sorry. I’ll … let you take your bath. I’ll go grab you some fresh clothes.”

He waited until he heard the soft splash of water that let him know Garrett was in the tub before returning to the bathroom. Garrett sat hunched over, arms around his legs and chin on his knees. Adrian started to ask if he was alright, but the answer was quite obvious. Fetching a chair he sat it next to the tub but facing the same direction as Garrett. Adrian didn’t want Garrett thinking he was just there to watch him bathe. Silence enveloped the room like the steam curling up from the water. Adrian wondered if visiting Stonemarket again had brought up bad memories for Garrett—losing all his things to the Thief-Taker, Basso getting shot, the burning of the Burrick.

“Stonemarket will be the first place I start rebuilding. Rebuilding the Crippled Burrick should really help raise the spirits of those living close to the Plaza and show them I care about their needs. Basso might not hate me so much if I restore his base of operations. I hope.”

“The basement was temporary. He was hiding there from the Thief-Taker.”

Adrian nodded slowly and chewed the corner of his mustache. “That didn’t work out too well, either time. Well Harlan is gone and Basso might be a fence, but I know a good informant when I meet them. After the Burrick I’ll concentrate on the bridge. It’s going slowly now, but with adequate funding we should have a proper bridge by fall. I know the ferries are a hassle. Is that how you’ve been getting across?”

“No, the Wren runs a private service.”

“Got to be expensive though. Private services always are.”

“Why, thinking of a new business venture?”

Adrian chuckled, silently relieved that Garrett wasn’t trying to cross the ruined bridge; it was mostly scaffolding and prayers at the moment.

“You never know. I need some way to fund the Watch. So how was Stonemarket? Pretty quiet this time of night?”

Garrett let out a soft sigh. “I almost miss the patrols. There’s no one to pickpocket.”

“You are being careful though? Even without the patrols you need to be careful. You are still recovering.”

Water sloshed as Garrett shifted. “The most I did was clean out your desk.”

“Do I need to remember to take extra coin with me to work tomorrow so I can buy lunch?” He reached over and ruffled Garrett’s hair. There was no response. Garrett sank lower in the water, burying his head against his knees. What had he said wrong?

“I’ll go out so you can relax.”

Adrian shut the door behind him and noticed that Elsie had left a tray on the table. The aroma of warm soup and tea reached him. Now if only Garrett would actually eat. He’d been doing better since they got home but Adrian couldn’t let go of the worry. Not after all the time spent on the ship watching helplessly as Garrett wasted away. Letting out a short huff he went to get ready for bed. At least he could warm the bed for Garrett. Finding a new blanket he spread it out and made sure the pillows were arranged how Garrett liked them.

He’d nearly dozed off when he heard the soft rattle of the teapot, then a few minutes later the clatter of metal on porcelain. He slumped back into his pillow, limp with relief. The bed dipped next to him. He rolled over to face Garrett, not bothering to open his eye. Sleep had nearly claimed him when he felt a featherlight touch along his cheek. He kept his eye shut as delicate fingers traced over the scars around the empty socket where his left eye ought to be. The touch disappeared. For a moment he thought Garrett had turned away to sleep with his back to him as usual. He opened his eye, hardly daring to breathe as Garrett nestled close and tucked his head up under Adrian’s chin. He smiled and wrapped an arm around the small frame. Whatever was wrong he knew they could both face it together. If only Garrett would let him stay at his side.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Haethel for her expertise and help with research.

Ector shuffled down the worn stairs to his workshop. It was always colder than the apartment upstairs. Everything remained cold these days. Even with the Gloom sickness gone and trade having resumed, winter had only deepened the chill that had lingered since summer.

“Should have left. Should have left when I had the chance. Blackbrook would at least have utilities that work when they’re supposed to,” Ector muttered to himself as he pottered over to his workbench. The light came on with a pop and settled into a steady hum, the brightness overwhelming him for a moment. When he blinked away the spots he stumbled back, nearly tripping over his stool as he noticed the figure stood in front of the bench.

“Good morning, Mr. Rothchild.”

“Randall! From your letter I didn’t expect you for another month. It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you. I was able to complete my business in Blackbrook, and now that Northcrest is gone there was nothing keeping me away.”

As usual Randall’s bland expressions left Ector uneasy. Wearing the metal camber style military helmet he looked more like the type B series 1 prototype they’d made. All he was missing was the number and Watch seal stamped across his forehead.

“You’ll be happy to know I am almost finished.”

“Almost? What are we missing?”

“The eyes. The lenses of the mechanical cameras aren’t powerful enough or small enough. I’ve tried grinding them down, making them smaller and thinner, but then they aren’t powerful enough and they break with the slightest jostle. The cameras aren’t good for anything other than detecting movement, nothing more fine-tuned.”

“There is no need to make excuses, Mr. Rothchild.”

“Excuses! I would never give you excuses. It’s a sad fact that the materials to be found here in the City are subpar and not fit for my metal men. I need … I need Clockwise. He could make the gears I need.”

“Luther is dead.”

Ector sat down on his stool. “That would explain why he ignored my letters.”

“I know you were upset with him because of what happened. I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly but it couldn’t be helped. I went to his house, but he’s been dead quite some time and the heart is missing.”

“Oh yes … the heart.” Ector scratched at the side of his head and glanced at Randall. “I had someone retrieve it for me so I could continue my work.”

Randall’s expression remained a mask and Ector feared he’d upset him. He continued in a rush.

“I’d not have done so, but you’d left, Clockwise wouldn’t speak to me and the project was incomplete when I—we were so close to being finished.”

A black-gloved hand reached out and picked up the hollow sphere of the mechanical eye the Master Thief had left behind.

“And now we are that much closer. Is this what you’ve been working on?”

“Another … client brought it to me. I thought to fix it, make it work, but I don’t have the resources.” Ector watched Randall turn the eye over in his fingers and then pick up one of the gears that still lay on the canvas.

“Interesting. I’m sorry you are having to work with inferior materials. I know how frustrating this can be. This eye might be the key to completing your improvements to my prototype designs.”

Ector straightened. “Of course! I thought the very same, however it is beyond repair. All I have are my sketches.”

He turned to pull the bundle of parchment from under a gear and waved them proudly at Randall. “I made certain to make complete representations of everything I saw before attempting to take it apart.”

Randall took the papers from him and nodded as he thumbed through them. “These are excellent, Ector. Excellent work. May I?”

“Of course.”

Randall pulled one of the sheets loose from the stack and laid it out on the workbench. He pointed to one of Ector’s notations. “Glass may not work for this. We might need something else.”

Ector leaned forward, an idea springing to mind. “I’ve heard rumors of a new type of crystal being imported. A rare mineral called sphalerite. I’ve been researching its properties and it seems that its refractive index is much higher than glass. If I can shape it properly it might be much more powerful and durable. I could see if it would suit our needs.”

“Good. I knew you’d know what to do. Now all that is left is the Soul.”

“You’ll bring it here when I am ready?”

“It’s in my safe at the Vale Street Ironworks. The room is inaccessible. Now that the Ironworks is a crematorium I was turned away. I’m not certain how we can retrieve it.”

Ector settled back with a grin. “I know how.”

***

Adrian shouldered the crossbow and readjusted his helmet. Behind him, Captain Leonard cleared his throat. Adrian glanced over at him. The other Captain still stood just inside the open door of the Watch Council Office. It had taken Adrian most of their lunch break to convince him to go along with the plan to investigate the Watch Station on Market Street.

“What? Did you change your mind?”

Captain Leonard narrowed his eyes and pulled at his mustache. “Just because Orsley said he thought Harlan stashed something there doesn’t mean there is anything to find. Besides, General Barbeaux said you weren’t to be in the field until he gave the okay.”

“Market Street is mostly empty. You yourself told me that. Even the Eelbiters have left it alone.”

“Yes, but that could be because of the rumored aggressive madmen living in the ruins. What is going to happen if we encounter them?”

Adrian shook his head. “That’s what the crossbow and sword are for.”

“Adrian … listen. I know you were an excellent shot as a crossbowman, but things have changed.”

“You’re backing out on me?”

Captain Leonard shook his head and scuffed his boot across the threshold. “No, I will go with you. But first I want to know you can hit a target.”

Adrian stiffened. Jerking around to face the street he glared at the nearest building. “I don’t know why you are worried. You have your own sword and crossbow.”

“Alright. I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want to go against the General’s orders. Especially—”

“Especially because he’s my older brother? You don’t have to come, Captain.”

“Don’t do that.”

Adrian glanced over his shoulder at Captain Leonard. “What?”

Captain Leonard was glaring at him from under his helmet. “Put me in this kind of situation. It’s unfair.”

“Just come on then. Your waffling is getting tedious,” Adrian said as he started down the street. He raised his eyebrows as Captain Leonard trotted ahead of him.

“Fine, but you stay behind me and we stay together.”

“You know, I’m a Captain too.”

“I have seniority. And call me Morgan.”

 

Adrian followed Morgan up the hill toward where the Watch Customs Office had been. Looking at the blackened rubble an overwhelming sense of loss hit him. Knocked the breath from his lungs. That night was still as vivid as ever. The way the ground shook when the Keep went up, the sickening realization that in an instant he’d lost so many friends and colleagues. Waiting at Eastwicks, feeling useless and knowing once word came that they would never reach the Keep in time. Then the attack on Northcrest Manor a few days later. He’d wanted to help, but protecting August and his home came first. He’d probably have died with the rest if he’d been on duty that night.

He started as Morgan clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Adrian turned to look at him and was offered a small, pained smile. Adrian returned it and shook himself. The Graven were gone. Now they could focus on moving forward. He gave the building a last look before following Morgan through the opening in the wall that led to the Watch Station. Nothing of the gate remained but cracked and broken hinges.

Adrian took his crossbow off his shoulder and held it at the ready as they entered the courtyard. To his right, against the wall, someone had made a makeshift lean-to out of half burnt timbers. A small fire burned in a battered brazier and he could just make out a figure curled up at the back of the lean-to. He gestured for Morgan to move ahead while he swept the courtyard. From the stench he guessed several of the rag swaddled forms were dead bodies. Beggars who had succumbed to either the cold or starvation.

Nothing stirred and he joined Morgan at the entrance to the station. The large wooden doors were long gone, the stone etched with black and cracked in places.

Morgan put out an arm to stop him as he stepped forward.

“I’ll go first. Watch where you put your feet.”

Light filtered through broken and soot covered window panes, leaving the interior dim and murky. Instead of the rubble he’d expected Adrian found the floor nearly swept clean. Scratches in the tile showed where things had been dragged across it.

“Has someone been doing clean up work here?” Adrian asked as he looked around the space.

“It looks like it. I never received orders.”

“Me neither, and I know August would have said something. We don’t have the men to spare right now.”

“I know. So who has been here?” Morgan took slow deliberate steps toward the large hole in the floor. The waist high wall was gone, either burned or broken down and removed to provide kindling.

“Watch your step.”

Adrian didn’t comment; the warning was warranted. In places around the edge the tile had crumbled and fallen away. As they moved around the gap the floor groaned under their boots.

“Think the stairs are intact?” Adrian wasn’t sure why he whispered but something about the oppressive silence had him on edge.

“Not a chance,” Morgan whispered back. “Good thing you brought that grappling hook and rope.”

Through another opening, one that Adrian had walked through so many times he couldn’t count. It should have led to an office. Now it was a shell of a room. He could see glimpses of the wintery blue sky overhead through the holes in the roof. Even the ornate carved wood paneling had been stripped, exposing the bare stone. Through another door and Adrian stopped.

The stairs were indeed gone. Adrian found himself staring down a hole to the floor below. He could just make out the Graven mark on the wall.

“Should have brought a lantern.”

“Adrian, I think you could tell by now that there is nothing left. Everything that didn’t burn has been looted.”

Adrian edged closer to the brink of the drop off. “You are probably right.”

“Let’s go. I’ve got this awful feeling like we are being watched.”

Adrian turned away from the hole. A dark figure loomed up behind Morgan but before Adrian could move the figure lashed out. Morgan yelped and stumbled forward, directly into Adrian. Adrian stepped back and into nothing.

***

Garrett jerked awake, fingers clenched in the sheets. His heart jumped and stuttered against his ribs. The falling sensation was gone. Had he been dreaming? Sitting up he glanced at the clock. Just after two. He’d slept nearly six hours since Adrian had left for work. Might as well get up. He’d slept enough. Not that there was anything to be done. He didn’t even think he could face going downstairs to the library. He could just stay here in bed curled up with the pillows until Adrian got home.

Elsie had apparently replaced the tray from the night before. A pot of tea and a plate of raisin studded bread and cheeses sat on the table. Garrett stared at it. He should eat something. Give Adrian one less thing to worry over.

A commotion from downstairs dragged him awake. The half-finished plate of food sat on the blanket next to him, along with Adrian’s journal. He must have fallen back asleep while reading it. The clock showed it was just after four, nearly two hours too early for Adrian to be home, so why …

He wrestled his way out of the covers, trying to ignore the worry filtering through the Primal and the surges of pain at the back of his head and along his shoulders. What had happened? Had Adrian been hurt at work?

Garrett paused at the landing halfway down the stairs. The foyer was a crush of people. One look at the uniforms and he retreated a couple of steps up until he could just peer around the corner. The Watch guards were clustered around a stretcher, talking in hushed voices as August tended the blood-covered figure. It didn’t seem to be Adrian. It took Garrett a moment to recognize the helmeted figure nearest the front door. Blood and dirt stained Adrian’s uniform. He held himself stiffly as if hurt. Was that the pain Garrett felt?

“Alright, let’s move him to my workroom.” August said as he got to his feet, blood-slick hands held away from his clothes.

Garrett waited until the men had disappeared down the hall before easing the rest of the way down the stairs. Adrian had stopped to take his boots off though he fumbled with the laces and kept swearing under his breath.

“Adrian …?”

The helmeted head jerked up and a thread of fear flickered through the Primal. Garrett backed up a step. For a moment he thought he’d made a mistake, that it wasn’t Adrian. Then the scowl relaxed and Adrian closed his eye.

“You startled me.” Something caught in Adrian’s voice. What had scared him?

“What happened?” Garrett stayed where he was even though the desire to go to Adrian’s side created an ache in his joints. He wanted to ease the pain he could feel flickering across Adrian’s shoulders.

Adrian kicked off the first boot and Garrett noticed it was splattered with blood, the smell finally reaching him. He unlaced the second and placed it next to the first. He said nothing as he turned and started down the hall.

“Adrian, what happened?” Garrett followed him a few steps, concern overriding his fear of discovery.

“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure no one sees you.”

“If you are hurt, I—”

“No.” Adrian stopped but didn’t turn around. Garrett couldn’t pin down what he sensed through the primal: a jumble of regret, pain, and something deeper, something that bored like splinters under his skin. He held his breath trying to block the piercing wail and shouts that sounded in the back of his head. The shouting sounded like Adrian. A memory echo? That hadn’t happened before. Over it he heard Adrian continue, “It’ll heal on its own. I just wish … Morgan—Captain Leonard ... Nevermind. August can take care of it. There is nothing for you to do. Just please stay out of sight while the men are here.”

Garrett struggled to get his lungs to work as he watched Adrian walk away. The flood of emotion through the Primal suffocated him, burnt its way through every defense he could muster. He pressed the heel of his hand to the side of his head as pain flared. Half-blind he stumbled up the stairs and into Adrian’s bedroom. Purposefully not thinking about what he was doing, he changed into his leathers and grabbed his quiver and bow from the wardrobe.

The window was still open. It was always open. Dusk had yet to fall, but he couldn’t stay. Not right now. At the end of the alley he stopped. Was he making the same mistake again? Crouching down next to the wall he pulled his hood up and watched the pedestrians. That morning, months ago, when Damien had cornered him in the ship’s galley and the subsequent fight, had left him feeling completely useless. Almost as useless as he felt right now. He’d left Adrian then, left to go do what he knew best: avoid having to deal with emotions he couldn’t quite define and didn’t completely understand.

He almost wanted to laugh at himself. He knew he could help this Captain Leonard. He could probably heal him quicker than August could put on his smock and gather his instruments. But he knew why Adrian wouldn’t allow him to do it. Not that knowing made it any easier to handle.

Straightening he stepped out into the street. Maybe Basso would have a job or two he could take. Something to get his mind off everything that had gone wrong this week. Something to get rid of this frustrating and ridiculous desire to go back inside and heal them both just to show Adrian he wasn’t useless.

 

“Absolutely not,” Basso said as he gathered up the papers scattered over his desk. “I don’t have anything for you anyway.”

“Really? No missing chess pieces, heirloom pens or scraps of poetry?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Garrett.” Basso shook a finger at him. “You and I both know you’re in worse shape now than when you came back from—from wherever you were that whole fucking year.”

“I’m not an invalid.” Garrett crossed his arms over his chest, not about to give in on this. He’d stopped at the drop house on his way to the Siren’s Rest to check if anything had been left and instead found Basso unpacking.

“Have you even looked in a mirror?” Basso jabbed his finger toward the bathroom. “I said no. I meant no. I’ll not be the cause of your death. Go home. Or better yet, you can stay here. Get well. Then we’ll talk.”

“Basso, I can do this. Just give me something. I’ve been all over the City since we got back.”

“Sure, and not a single coin, pen or picture frame to show for it,” Basso said with a disbelieving grunt. He turned away to open a desk drawer and shoved the papers inside. He slammed it shut, getting a reproachful squawk from Dyan who sat in her cage on top of the desk.

“I had … other things I was doing.”

“Other things, besides stealing?”

Garrett shifted his weight, his gaze travelling the room. Besides Basso’s suitcase on the bed, a lamp on the desk and a painting, the room was bare. Everything of value gone. Was Basso having troubles again?

“I was trying to find something.”

“And did you?”

“What does that matter?”

Basso sat down, the old wooden chair groaning under his weight. He took his pipe out of his vest pocket and held it for a moment. When he spoke again his voice had softened.

“Listen, Garrett, I wish I could help. I really do. But not this time. I’ve got my own troubles. You were gone so long and then everything went to shit, and now the whole City is just one big steaming pile of shit. I’m fighting for every scrap I’ve got right now. Between the Graven destroying half the City, losing all but a dozen of my thieves and the Eelbiters expanding out of South Quarter … Things are tight, Garrett. I can’t afford any mistakes. I can’t afford to lose you again.”

“You think giving me a job would be a mistake?”

“The last thing I need is that big blond idiot tracking me down because you got hurt on a job.”

Garrett let his arms drop to his sides. “Adrian wouldn’t—”

Basso’s look stopped him. Garrett debated whether or not to tell him that Adrian already thought he went out thieving anytime he left the house. It probably wouldn’t help the situation. Basso seemed determined to blame Adrian for everything that had happened.

“He would, and my reputation is already in tatters as it is. Clients are slim pickings right now, and if they knew a Watch Captain has me under observation then I might as well watch my career go up in smoke. I can’t risk it.”

“Fine. I get it. No jobs.”

Basso groaned. “Don’t be like that. I’m trying to look out for you here.”

“Funny, Adrian says something similar.” He looked at Dyan again and tried to shrug off the sudden nausea. “Feels a lot like being caged.”

Garrett ignored Basso calling after him as he descended the stairs. He slipped out the still open window onto the rooftop and melted into the shadows.


	13. Chapter 13

August swept to the side to avoid Adrian’s blind pacing up and down the hall. He struggled to keep the tray level as glasses clinked together in warning. Morgan’s next dose of pain medication didn’t need to end up all over the floor.

“Adrian! Watch where you are going.”

There was no reply as he started up the stairs but the heavy tread stopped. Upstairs in the guest room he turned the tray over to Reginald who was staying up to tend to Morgan. After checking Morgan’s bandages he headed back downstairs. Adrian no longer patrolled the hall. Biting back a sigh, August returned to his workroom. Going to the cabinet, he took down the laudanum bottle. His vision blurred for a moment and he leaned against the cabinet as exhaustion hit him. He didn’t want to use it on Adrian, but it was nearing one in the morning and there was no sign he was going to calm down by himself. Whether it helped him sleep, or at least just relax enough that he’d stop pacing and jumping at every sound. Maybe then they’d all get a few hours of sleep.

A full dose of twenty drops in a glass of whiskey should do it given Adrian’s size. The concoction prepared, August went to find Adrian. He’d moved from pacing the hall to wandering around the library. August waited in the doorway until Adrian spotted him. Thankfully the ruined and bloody uniform had been discarded for trousers and a shirt. It struck him all over again how much thinner Adrian had become. The Captain’s uniform helped him look bulkier, but the shirt did little to hide the bony wrists and sunken cheeks. At times August wondered if Adrian had subconsciously stopped eating as much just because Garrett couldn’t.

“Here, this might help.” Ignoring the chiding voice in the back of his head August held out the glass. “If you feel up to it, I’d like to know what happened at the Station.”

Adrian took the glass from him and downed the entire contents in one gulp. He handed the glass back with a soft cough.

“Thanks.”

August nodded and gestured for Adrian to follow him over to the chairs by the fireplace. Adrian took the other seat but didn’t look at August, staring into the fire instead.

When Adrian didn’t seem inclined to say more, August broke the silence. “Morgan is doing just fine. The gashes were long but shallow, and he didn’t sustain any major injuries from the fall. How is your head?”

“It’s fine. Just sore if I touch it. I think my helmet took the worst of it.”

“And your shoulder?”

“It’s going to ache for a while.” Adrian finally lifted his head to look at him. “Have you seen Garrett?”

August pursed his lips and shook his head. “No. Last I knew he was asleep upstairs.”

“He’s not there.”

“I see. You think he went out?” August made certain to keep his tone neutral. If Garrett had left, tonight could get very long indeed.

Adrian ran a hand through his hair and winced. “His stuff is gone so I’m pretty sure he’s out. It looked like he’s eaten, at least. He … offered to help earlier but I told him no.”

“Hmm … that would have made things both easier and a bit too complicated. You and Morgan will heal fine. You were right to tell him no. Now, about the Station. Who attacked you?”

Adrian slumped back in his chair and closed his eye. “Everything happened so fast. We thought the building was empty. This … this thing, whatever it was, it might have been human once. It still looked partly human but … warped, as if someone had reformed it from treacle.”

Adrian shuddered and shrank in on himself. “It made the most horrible noise and attacked with a speed I’ve never seen. We only had time for a couple of shots, not that it made any difference. I just don’t understand why it didn’t come kill us while we were both unconscious. It didn’t attack again until I was trying to help Morgan out of the basement to the back door. It caught us in that corridor. The best I could do was use my sword to keep it at bay while Morgan made it to the door.”

“Which is why your uniform is in ribbons?”

“Yes. I’ll never complain about that heavy leather again. I never thought I’d have to face something with claws like that inside the City. I suppose all those rumors of monsters in the sewers weren’t just gloomers seeing horrors.”

August sat back in his chair, watching Adrian. Something else was bothering him beyond the attack. Adrian had fought men, beasts and monsters. So why had this particular attack left him so rattled?

“Anything else you can remember?”

Adrian scratched at the stubble along his jaw and shook his head. “No, I was so worried about getting Morgan out I didn’t pay attention to much. Well, before it attacked us we had noticed that everything inside, even the rubble, had been moved.”

“So how did you both end up falling?”

Adrian blanched and lurched to his feet. He grabbed the side table as he ran into it, the pile of books thudding to the floor. August waited until the swearing finally calmed down and he’d finished picking up the scattered books.

“Adrian, please sit and tell me what else is bothering you.”

“Can I have more whiskey?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Adrian grunted and flopped down in the chair.

August waited. Adrian’s breathing finally slowed and his grip on the armrests of his chair eased.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I know you don’t but I need you to. I need you healthy and ready to return to work. Not wearing out my new rug with your pacing. I already had to replace the front door.”

Adrian closed his eye and let his chin rest on his chest. “I should have listened to him. I insisted and he got hurt because of me.”

“Morgan is going to be alright, Adrian.”

“If there’d been more than one, we’d both be dead. I barely kept that thing from ripping me to shreds. The only thing that saved us was Morgan pressing the light switch. Damn thing screamed like I’d stabbed it and ran back inside.” Adrian shuddered and his voice started to quiver. “I nearly got him killed. Nearly made the same mistake again.”

August sat forward and took Adrian’s hand in his. Adrian wouldn’t look up though August could feel the slight tremble. Battle fatigue? Possibly. It seemed more likely that Adrian was thinking of another incident. One that had ended much worse.

“You’re home and safe now. So is Morgan. We have confirmation these monsters are real and now have information on how to combat them. I know it scared you but please don’t dwell on it. The situation is completely different.”

Adrian shrugged and pulled his hand away. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“I’ll have someone take your shift for tomorrow so don’t worry about waking up early.”

August watched him shuffle out of the room, wishing there was more he could do to comfort him. At the very least it seemed the laudanum was working. The last thing he needed was for Adrian to have a breakdown over Rylan again. Though if Garrett didn’t return things might end up going a similar route.

Pushing himself to his feet, August consciously relaxed tense shoulders. He couldn’t think like that. From what little he’d seen of the two of them together it was obvious the thief was just as invested in Adrian’s welfare as Adrian was in Garrett’s. No matter what Amaury or Basso had to say on the subject, it really wasn’t any of their business. Maybe a bit of whiskey for himself wouldn’t hurt. Help him get to sleep instead of overthinking other people’s relationships.

As he trudged over to the door that led from the library to the workroom he couldn’t help but think about that day so many years ago.

The ship had been over a week late getting into port. He’d taken to visiting the docks every day to see if they’d arrived. When the _Hanged Maiden_ had finally docked, the ship looked like it had been through hell. He’d seen Rozzen first, standing on the deck and bellowing orders.

To his surprise, Amaury had come to find him and explained they’d run into a fierce storm and had lost two men. It wasn’t until he’d watched Aldric have to drag Adrian from the ship that he’d really begun to worry.

“Damn fool. I hope Aldric makes him stay home for a while.”

Even then Amaury had been hard on Adrian, but no one came close to how hard Adrian was on himself. It had taken August until the next day to find out what had happened. No one seemed to want to talk about it. Adrian was incoherent with grief and August had finally sedated him. After that Aldric finally told him what had happened.

The winter storm had come up on them suddenly. Being topmen, Adrian and Rylan had gone up in the rigging to secure the sails so the wind didn’t rip them to shreds. In his rush to see to the sails, Adrian hadn’t secured his or Rylan’s safety lines properly. While fighting the gale Rylan had lost his footing and fallen. He’d died from his injuries the following morning.

Even after all these years Adrian had never forgiven himself and it seemed whatever had happened at the Station had dredged up all those memories again. If only Garrett had stuck around tonight, August might not have had to resort to the laudanum.

Pouring himself half a glass of whiskey, August watched the liquid swirl for a moment before picking it up. He might never have had a relationship like Adrian and Rylan, but he knew what it felt like to watch someone you love slip away while being powerless to help them. He gulped down the whiskey and blamed the tears on the burn.

***

The old chapel ruins stood stark against the growing light of the dawn. Shivering, Garrett hurried through the gate and down the steps. He’d wasted the remainder of the night skulking about Stonemarket and half-heartedly trying to find something to steal. There was still too much snow and ice to risk climbing up the clock tower and the cold had finally driven him down Mourningside, to the only place he might find refuge during the day. He’d missed Linnet and Siskin’s last run across the river by nearly two hours. Irritated with himself for not paying attention he’d finally conceded that the talk with Basso had bothered him more than he’d wanted to admit.

Fewer beggars then he remembered sat huddled inside the crypt at the bottom of the stairs. The brazier and multitude of candles helped banish some of the chill but it still scurried around his ankles like the rats that swarmed in the corners. He’d not been back here since before they’d left, though her words still clung to him. Like burrs in a dog’s coat they pricked at him anytime he thought about it. She’d said he’d found what he needed, but that keeping it would be the problem. That could apply to so many things. Even without fully understanding what she’d meant, he felt as though something was slipping through his fingers.

With a rueful shake of his head he slipped free of the shadows and approached the tables and chairs. The Queen of Beggars almost appeared to be dozing in her chair. Garrett wondered if she ever slept in the bed at the back of the crypt, or if that was just for the beggars. It and the mattress on the floor were both currently occupied, though the sofa to the right of the dresser was empty.

“A bit late for you to be about, isn’t it, Garrett?”

She didn’t move, though her eyes were open and peered right through him. He wasn’t sure how to reply and remained silent. A small smile stretched at her thin lips and she raised one skeletal hand to point to the chair next to her.

“Sit. Tell me what brings you here at this time of the day.”

He glanced around before taking a seat. A rat ran up the side of the chair and jumped down to perch on his shoulder. He stopped himself from shaking it off. The smell of wet straw and moldy burlap clung to the rodent.

“Barnabas, leave him be.” The rat made a small clicking sound and then ran down his arm. It jumped to the floor only to disappear under Garrett’s chair. “Don’t mind him. We’ve been expecting you for some time now. It’s good to have you home. The City is not the same without you.”

Garrett almost snorted. “You missed me?”

“It seems you took your knack for finding trouble with you.”

“I’m hoping I left it behind in that forest.”

Milky white eyes blinked slowly. “Much has been gained … and lost. So what brings you? I don’t think you seek counsel and you’ve not brought anything to donate …”

His muscles twitched. He wanted to get up, to avoid that blind gaze that saw too much and too deeply. He could barely remember the last time he’d come here for shelter. He’d been little more than a street urchin at the time, and to have to return now was only further proof of how dependent and useless he’d become. _There is nothing for you to do. Stay out of sight._ He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the chair. _I can’t afford any mistakes._ He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d find a way to be useful, but even Basso saw him as a risk now.

Warm fingers on his hand startled him into opening his eyes. He pulled his arm away.

“Flesh and bone grow weary and the spirit falters, but all's not lost. We can speak of matters once you have rested.” She gestured in the direction of the sofa. “Sleep. You are safe here.”

In reluctant agreement he got to his feet. Stiff joints and aching muscles threatened to betray him, making movement difficult. Why had he ever left Adrian’s bed yesterday? At least the sofa was soft and the blanket given him warm and free of stains. After laying his bow and quiver on the floor he curled up facing out towards the crypt and pulled the blanket over his head to block the light. Or so he told himself. He shifted backward until his spine pressed firmly against the cushions and ignored the quiet thought that if nothing else he could pretend it was Adrian at his back.


	14. Chapter 14

Wooden floorboards creaked under the heavy tread of booted feet. Cold bit at wrists and ankles, trickled along stinging lines of pain around his neck. Blue laced across his vision, the moving figure bathed in red. Crimson as the blood dripping from numb fingers.

Dalibor turned toward him, the exposed ribcage stark white against the red. He grasped the chains that kept Garrett tied down. The chains glowed white-hot. Seared lines of pain through Garrett, around him, trapping him.

“You got nowhere to run, little man.” Dalibor loomed over him. “Useless, sniveling little coward.”

He threw up his arms to ward off the blow but the chains caught him, limited his movement. He jerked to the side. Knees and elbows cracked against stone. Air whistled through his clenched teeth as the blue glow intensified and sharpened. Dalibor was dead. Rozzen was dead. This was not real. The pain in his elbows and knees was real. A distant thread of alarm flared along the Primal, spotlighting the humiliation that kept him cowering on the floor even as the remnants of the dream faded.

Adrian’s alarm blossomed to panic and Garrett wished there were a way to either close the connection to the Primal or a way to reassure him. His vision still shot through with blue, Garrett untangled himself from the blanket and slumped back against the sofa. Adrian’s panic lingered, a bitter taste in the back of his throat. Garrett pressed his hand to the side of his head. The sharp stabbing pain behind his eye reminded him too much of the weeks with Rozzen. Shoving the memories down, he heaved himself to his feet and sat heavily on the sofa.

The blanket lay wadded on the floor next to where he’d set his bow and quiver. Barnabas stood on the quiver looking at him, whiskers twitching from side to side.

“Just a nightmare,” Garrett murmured as he reached down to pick up the blanket. Barnabas sneezed at him and scurried away. No doubt to relay what had happened to his mistress. He squeezed his eyes shut as another jolt of fear assailed him. It wasn’t just Dalibor who gave him nightmares, it was Amaury too. At least Amaury’s hatred he understood. Dalibor had simply enjoyed hurting him.

A shiver wracked him and he pulled the blanket around his shoulders. While Dalibor had seen him as small, weak and useless, Amaury knew him to be worthless, a burden, only good for ruining lives. Huddled under the blanket Garrett wondered why he’d ever thought returning to the City meant things would go back to normal. Well … normal for him.

“Change is as eternal as the City. Storms come and go, Houses rise and fall, and sometimes even thieves must step out of the shadows.”

Apparently the room wasn’t as empty as he’d thought. Garrett let the blanket fall as he got to his feet. “I should go.”

“Where?” Her head was bowed, attention seemingly focused on the rat sitting on her lap. The question irritated Garrett. Since when did she care where he went?

“To find deeper shadows.”

Her head turned in his direction, the milky white irises swirled with blue. “They do not conceal what you seek.”

“You said last time I’d found what I needed. Are you going back on that now?”

The blind gaze didn’t waver and he finally looked away.

“What you seek and what you need are separate things.”

Garrett closed his eyes, his fingers curling into fists at his side. Always riddles. Never a straight answer. What did she think he was seeking? He’d come here for shelter. Nothing more. He should head back to Auldale, before Adrian’s panic led him to do something reckless. Opening his eyes he reached down to pick up his gear.

“The eye you found, the one you hoped would soothe your guilt. Do not mourn its loss.”

Garrett stiffened and jerked around to face her again, his quiver hitting the floor with a thump. That vicious ache was back, hollowing out his middle and leaving him numb and cold. What could she know about that? It had nothing to do with her or the City; this wasn’t like with Erin. He’d made mistakes with Erin and nearly died to fix them, but with Adrian … he just wanted to stop the pain.

She held up a hand. “Sacrifices have been made. Don’t diminish them.”

Garrett shook his head and tried to swallow the hot ache making its way up his throat. Sacrifice? How was wanting to help Adrian feel whole again a bad thing? “I—you said I’d changed, that Erin changed me. Made me realize … I promised him. I promised and I failed.”

“He doesn’t see it that way.”

“I do. He trusted me. Just as Erin trusted me and I betrayed them both.”

The soft laugh had heat shooting through him. “The key is not in what you see, but what you don’t see. The claw, the eye, are only tokens. Remember: even the cage you make for yourself is no less a prison.”

She gestured toward the stairs. “It is still light out but if you feel you must go …”

The fact that the sun hadn’t yet set was the only thing keeping him here. Adrian’s panic still simmered, but muted now and fading even as Garrett tried to get a better grasp on the Primal. The thread melted away to only the barest hum that he had to concentrate fully on to even discern. Adrian never went back to sleep that quickly after getting upset. Had something happened? Garrett glanced toward the stairs as the distant toll of the clock tower sounded. Three in the afternoon. Adrian should be at work, not sleeping.

Grabbing up his bow and quiver he started for the stairs. It would be sunset within an hour or so. He could stop by the Watch Council Office on the way to the meeting spot for the Wren’s ferry. If nothing else, if Adrian was still working he could make sure he was alright. Garrett knew he should have stayed home yesterday. Leaving had only accomplished the very thing he’d been trying to avoid.

Garrett started up the stairs but paused to look back toward the chair. It sat empty. Deciding not to dwell on it he headed up to the chapel. The cold greeted him, snatched his breath away. One of the beggars shuffled about, lighting the candles. Garrett slipped past her and out of the ruins. Mourningside was dark enough the lamplighters should have been out. Getting across Stonemarket wasn’t going to be difficult, though the cold might pose an issue if he stayed out too long.

The Watch Council Office sat dark. Crouched in the deep shadows at the base of the clock tower Garrett watched the building for a while. The whole time he only saw one other person meandering past. A drunk, most likely. His feet and toes had gone numb by the time the clock struck four. He waited a bit longer, watching the sunlight fade from the sky overhead. Once the clouds no longer glowed pink and red he moved from his spot.

Ice still clung to some of the wood, and he took extra care finding handholds as he climbed up to the top floor. Warm air washed over him as he opened the window and climbed in, almost immediately setting his toes and fingers to tingling. Tobacco smoke and the smell of salted fish lingered in the air. Adrian didn’t smoke so someone else had been here today. He paused at the top of the landing. He’d thought the building was empty, but something—or someone—was moving around below. He could hear drawers being opened and shut, and the rustle of papers. Maybe Adrian was here after all?

Sneaking down the stairs he rounded the corner and froze. Jeb Chokes stood behind Adrian’s desk as he riffled through the paperwork laid out across the top. Two more Eelbiters slouched against the wall to the right of the desk, watching.

“If he found somethin’ it’ll be here. You’re sure the Station was cleaned out?”

“Yeah, they didn’t find nothing ‘cept one of them freaks the gloomers were on about. I threatened to take that beggar’s hand if he were lyin’ to me. He swore they didn’t take nothing out.”

Garrett backed toward the stairs. Stupid rookie mistake. Always look around corners first. Had he really been that eager to see Adrian? He knew the answer but there wasn’t time to think about it. He needed to get to the window behind him and outside before any of them noticed him.

He reached the window and turned to face it, placing a hand on glass cold enough to burn his fingers. Slipping the pry bar from his belt he wedged it under the sash and nudged it up. Wood squealed against wood. Garrett stopped, held his breath as he listened. All he could hear was his heartbeat rushing in his ears. Maybe it had only seemed loud to him? Either way he was wasting time.

Readjusting his grip on the pry bar he went slower this time as he again tried to lift the pane enough to slip his fingers under. The wood groaned, protesting every incremental movement. Just a fraction more and he’d have it. He let out a shallow breath as he finally slipped his fingers under the sash.

“Lookit this! Watch gotta rat problem.”

Garrett started and glanced over his shoulder. One of the Eelbiters had walked around the corner. Heaving the window pane upward he got one leg through before he was jerked backward. The window smacked shut, narrowly missing his foot. He attempted to get his feet under him as he was dragged backward away from the window. He needed leverage and his blackjack.

He twisted around. No helmet, and the Eelbiter only had a hold of Garrett’s cloak. They neared the corner past the stairs. He had to act now or things were only going to get worse. Grabbing his blackjack Garrett struck just above the man’s elbow hard enough he yelped and let him go. He stumbled to his feet and shot forward catching the man across the side of the head. The Eelbiter went limp and dropped to the floor.

There was a blur and something slammed into him, knocking him flat. Air burst from his lungs as a crushing weight landed on him. Vision blurred and greying at the edges he struggled to shove the man off him. His arm was grabbed and pinned.

“Jeb! You’ll never guess who just fell right in our lap.”

Laughter assaulted Garrett even as he fought to dislodge the man. His heart jerked spasmodically against his ribcage and he swallowed trying to get rid of the nausea. He’d get out of this. He just had to be patient. He’d survived Rozzen, he’d survive this. He clenched his jaw as the man reached out with a grimy hand and jerked Garrett’s mask down.

The man leaned over him with a gap-toothed grin. He hauled Garrett to his feet. Garrett had a split second to regret pretty much every decision of the last twenty-four hours before he was slammed into the wall. His bow jabbed into his back. Stars burst around him and things went from greyish to nearly black. He forced his eyes open. He couldn’t pass out now. Blackjack wasn’t going to work; he needed something else.

Jeb appeared behind the man holding him, a smirk firmly in place. “Been lookin’ for ya’, Master Thief. Though I think you’ve lost that title seein’ how most everyone knows you’re nothing but a cowardly little git.”

He sniffed and spat to the side. “That fat fuck Basso put you up to it, didn’t he? Thought he’d start something between me and Eddie. I’m still fucking pissed about you cleaning out the safehouse.”

Garrett tried to shift away from the wall. His bow dug into his lower back and shoulder, and his quiver had slipped down until his arrows were nearly ready to spill out. His arrows. He had two choke arrows. They might buy him enough time to get out the window. The hand on his chest keeping him against the wall left him free to reach behind him and feel for the arrow he needed. He should only need the one.

“Gotta hand it to you though, it took me months to figure out who done it. Offed one o’ my own boys thinkin’ he stole from me.”

“He weren’t no big loss, Boss.”

“Well none of that’s gonna matter a lick here real soon.” Jeb sneered. “I ran Basso outa Stonemarket and I’ll run ‘im outa whatever new hole he’s crawled into. Then I’ll find the Wren and put all those pretty birdies to work. Right now I think it’s time we settled up, thief.” Jeb held up a pair of scissors and grinned. “Hold him. I think all the fingers on his left hand should do it.”

Garrett pulled the arrow free. He took a breath, held it, and then cracked the arrow across the side of the man’s head. Dust exploded over all three of them. Garrett’s eyes stung and he jerked his mask up over his nose. The man holding him let go and doubled over coughing. Forcing trembling limbs to move as quickly as possible Garrett made for the window and heaved it open. A few moments later he could hear Jeb screaming at his men as he darted from shadow to shadow along Market Street. He didn’t allow himself to stop until he was at the quay waiting on Siskin and Linnet.

There was no sign that Jeb or his men had followed him, but there was no sense taking chances. He kept out of sight until the boat was docked. No one said anything as they rowed him back across. The silence both comforted and distressed him. He didn’t want to talk but he also didn’t want to have to think.

They were halfway across the river when it hit him. None of the Eelbiters had drawn their swords. They hadn’t tried to kill him.

He still puzzled over that as he climbed in through Adrian’s window. Tired muscles ached and protested every movement. Thankfully the window was still open, even if the curtains had been drawn. He paused behind the curtains to catch his breath and tried to tame the sudden flutters that erupted in his stomach. He slipped between the heavy fabric panels and into the room.

Warm air embraced him, laced with the scent of bread and light tang of lemon. A knot in his middle unclenched and tension bled from his limbs, left him weak and shivery. Adrian sat at his desk across the room in front of the bay of windows, the scratch of his pen on paper loud in the stillness. He sat back and glanced over his shoulder. The Primal flared blue tinged with gold around Adrian and that familiar golden warmth suffused Garrett. Adrian jerked, as if to stand, but then settled back down. He nodded to Garrett before he turned back to his writing. The warmth faded into a careful blankness.

Garrett stared at Adrian as the flutters spun themselves up into an unbearable tightness in his throat. He closed his mouth, pressed his lips together and turned away, heading for the wardrobe to his left next to the bed.

“You had dinner?”

Garrett shook his head, tried to focus on stowing his gear instead of on the wrenching disappointment that filled him. What had he expected? Fumbling for a clean change of clothes he hesitated to turn around. He could barely feel anything from Adrian through the Primal—he was there but subdued, the golden warmth Garrett associated with him obscured behind a dull grey determination. Had something happened? Was Adrian upset he’d left without saying anything? Had the earlier panic caused an issue at work? He shouldn't have left Adrian yesterday. Running away to avoid having to face his own failures had only created more worry and pain for Adrian. Exactly what he'd been so desperate to avoid. Maybe he was the coward Jeb took him for.

“I’ll have Elsie bring you something up.” Even Adrian’s voice was flat, nearly emotionless.

Garrett steeled himself, turned to face Adrian. Desperation bubbled up in him as he stared at Adrian’s back. The words came out in a rush before he could halt them. “Jeb Chokes was in your office.”

Adrian paused where he’d been reaching for the bell to call Elsie, glancing over toward Garrett. Something flickered through the Primal but was gone before Garrett could identify it.

“Thank you for telling me. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Dinner should be ready by the time you are done.” Adrian gave the bell two sharp rings.

Garrett stood there waiting, for what he wasn’t certain. The clothes clutched in his hands he started toward the bathroom. As he came even with the back of Adrian’s chair he halted. Adrian didn’t pause in his writing, his head bent over what he was doing. Blond hair hung loose down Adrian’s back and before he realized what he was doing Garrett found himself reaching out to run his fingers through the fine gold strands. He snatched his hand back, stomach churning. Face on fire Garrett fled for the bathroom.


	15. Chapter 15

Adrian trudged up the stairs, more weary than he’d been in some time. The last few days had tested every ounce of his resolve as a Watch Captain. Not only that but he had Garrett to worry about as well, the looming fear of a relapse into that nearly catatonic state from the voyage home. Adrian wondered when his life had become nothing but a series of worrisome issues. He couldn’t concentrate at work for worrying about Garrett, yet once he got home he grew anxious about the men left to patrol through the night.

“Evening.”

Adrian paused on the landing. August walked down the hall toward him from the guest room where Morgan slept, a roll of clean bandages in his hand.

“Evening.” Adrian waited until August stopped next to him. Resignation filled Adrian and he glanced away, unable to meet August’s gaze as he delivered the news. “Eelbiters killed one of my men.”

“I’m very sorry, Adrian.” A gentle hand squeezed Adrian’s shoulder. “I worried this might happen when we organized the new patrols.”

Adrian nodded, his head down. “We have to root them out. The City won’t be safe until we do. Jeb is too brazen—breaking into my office, killing my men in broad daylight. I want the bounty on him raised.”

“I know. I’m doing everything I can to help but I can’t raise the bounty. There’s no money to pay anyone.”

Adrian nodded again, his fingers clamped tight around the rim of his helmet. It always came back to the damn money. “How is Morgan doing?”

“He’s mending. I’ll send him home this weekend.”

Adrian fidgeted for a moment. “Has Garrett come out of the room today?”

“No. I left the paper in place on the door like you asked but it’s not moved.”

Adrian groaned and ran a hand over his face. “I swear … it almost seems like he’s upset and moping about something. Or … or—he is still eating, right?”

“Yes, Elsie said his appetite is fine. If you are so worried, Adrian, have you tried talking to him?” August prodded gently as he shifted his weight to lean against the wall. “He’s been awake every time I’ve looked in on him through the day.”

“I know … it’s just he’s been so lethargic and he barely speaks to me. It just feels too much like when we first got back and if he’s getting ill again, then … I’ve been trying to do what you said and give him space but it’s so difficult, especially with these nightmares. I can’t just ignore him, August. I can’t.”

Something moved in the corner of Adrian’s vision. He tilted his head toward his bedroom door. He would have sworn the door had opened a crack. He turned his full attention back to August.

“Giving him his space doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him. Why don’t you go freshen up and we’ll have dinner? I’m sure that whatever is bothering Garrett will be resolved soon enough.” August patted Adrian’s shoulder as he walked by him and started down the stairs. “He’s still here, isn’t he?”

The scrap of paper lay on the floor beside the bedroom door. Adrian had balanced it on the top of the door that morning as a way to know if Garrett was leaving the room at all. Apparently it hadn’t been his imagination a few minutes ago. His grip on his helmet loosened and the cold knot that had been festering in his gut thawed a bit. August was right, though getting Garrett to talk about himself or admit to being anything less than fine was about as easy as sharpening a sword with a lump of mud. All you got was frustrated and a handful of dirt.

Stifling warmth inside the bedroom made it difficult to breathe. The curtains were open but the window was shut. A fire crackled and spat in the grate, and appeared to have been well tended throughout the day. Adrian looked toward the bed. Garrett sat curled under the covers, a book on his lap and another blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Adrian noted that the thief was going to need a proper haircut soon. The uneven strands of dark hair now obscured his eyes and covered his ears. Maybe he’d offer to do it for him.

“Evening.” Adrian set his helmet on the nightstand. He shrugged out of his new uniform coat and threw it onto the foot of bed. “Mite warm in here. How are you not melting?”

Garrett glanced over at him, his right eye blazing blue for a moment. “I don’t go around wearing full armor indoors.”

“No, you go around wearing skintight leather.” Adrian chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. If Garrett felt well enough to tease him then surely there was nothing to worry over. For the first time in days the worry receded somewhat, the constant knot in his gut loosening a fraction. There was no reply and he stared down at his socks. He took a short breath before speaking. “Has it been too cold for you to go out?”

The soft thump of Garrett’s book closing made him glance over. Garrett was watching him, something unreadable in his eyes. Something that on anyone else Adrian would have taken for longing.

“I told you I don’t normally leave the clock tower during the winter.”

As an answer it was barely satisfying, but at least it was an answer. Adrian grunted and started unbuttoning his shirt. Sweat was already running down his back. “Climbing in and out my window doesn’t exactly compare to the clock tower. Are you going to join us for dinner?”

A sharp rap on the door drowned out anything Garrett might have said. The door burst open and Adrian gawked at Basso as he stormed into the room. Basso glared at him, eyeing him up and down for a moment before something behind Adrian caught his attention. All the color drained from Basso’s face and then just as rapidly he went a brilliant crimson, eyes wide and staring. That piercing stare pinned Adrian. Basso’s voice grated through clenched teeth.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Adrian glanced around, at a complete loss. “Getting undressed …?”

Basso sputtered for a moment and then shook a finger at Adrian. “I’ve had enough of this. I don’t care if you’re a Barbeaux, you’re nothing but a scheming guttershite, a—a magsman on the randy. I’ve met dockfrocks with more dignity. At least they don’t stoop to forcing themselves on others.”

Adrian jerked his head back, jaw slack and eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what he’d just heard. “Wh-what?”

Basso’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist and Adrian flinched back, ducked his head. Getting walloped by Basso would be a fitting end to his day.

“Basso!”

“Don’t you defend him, Garrett. I don’t know what he’s said or what he’s promised you but—”

“Basso.” That low gravelly voice couldn’t have possibly belonged to Garrett. It had Basso snapping his mouth shut and crossing his arms over his chest. Adrian shivered as Garrett continued, anger evident in his tone. “Is there some reason you’re here? Because if you’re just here to insult Adrian you can leave.”

Basso blinked at that and lowered his arms. He finally looked away and shook his head.

“I don’t get you. But yeah, fine, I needed to talk to you. Just not in front of _him_.”

Adrian took a shaky breath. “I was just going to take a bath. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

Basso backed up a step as Adrian stood and looked down at him. It shouldn’t hurt so much to have Basso think so poorly of him, but being accused of taking advantage of Garrett had cut him to the quick. As much as he wanted to be closer to Garrett he’d never dream of doing something like that. In a fog he gathered up his clothes and shambled to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door behind him. Ripping the tie out of his hair he threw it across the room, closely followed by his eyepatch. He sat on the edge of the tub and scrubbed his hands over his face. Of all the things for Basso to accuse him of it had to be this. Adrian let out a deep sigh that threatened to turn into a sob.

He’d die—had died—before he let Garrett get hurt and still Basso found ways to demean him and belittle their relationship. He knew how important Basso was to Garrett, but enduring this kind of abuse wasn’t something he was sure he could tolerate for long. Though endure it he would, as long as possible. For Garrett’s sake.

 

Garrett stared after Adrian, the surge of emotion through the Primal crushing the air out of his lungs. Raw and ragged it stabbed through him. Adrian’s distress and uncertainty cut through the fragile tendrils of contentment that had existed only a few moments before. The bathroom door shut and he heard the lock click into place. He swiveled around to glare at Basso.

“Was that really necessary?”

Basso snorted. “He needed to hear it.”

Garrett leaned back against the headboard and fixed Basso with a stare. “So, you have a job for me or what?”

Basso’s shoulders slumped and he stuck his hands in his pockets. “No jobs. But Ector came by looking for you. Something about an antique you’d left with him. If you were wantin’ something appraised you could have brought it to me instead of him.”

A jolt shot through Garrett and he sat forward. “The antique. What did he say about it?”

“Nothing really. Just asked how he could get in contact with you.”

Shrugging the blanket off his shoulders Garrett set his book to the side. Basso had his full attention now. “And what did you tell him?”

“That I’d get word to you. He seemed pretty excited about something.”

Garrett leaned toward Basso, hardly daring to believe that something might have changed since he’d last seen Ector. Was this what the Queen of Beggars had meant when she’d told him not mourn its loss? If there was any remote possibility he’d found a way to fix the eye … he left the thought unfinished and focused on Basso again.

“What else, Basso? You wouldn’t have come all the way here just to tell me that.”

“I had to come anyway to deliver August some information. I’ll be glad when you’re back at the clock tower and I don’t have to bother with the nasty looks I get from these hoity toity types. August is the only decent one in the bunch.”

“He’s the General of the Watch.”

“So? He ain’t clapped me in irons yet.” Basso shrugged and then waved a hand toward the bed. “Obviously he’s got no problem with you either if he don’t mind _this_.”

Garrett looked down at the bed, puzzled as to what Basso meant. “This?”

Basso groaned softly. “Listen, Garrett … your private life is none of my business but just be careful. Okay?”

Garrett frowned, unsure why Basso seemed to think he wasn’t being careful. He’d not even left this room for the past three days. “It’s fine Basso. I really don’t know what you’re worried about. You won’t even give me any jobs.”

Basso cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he stared at Garrett for a long moment. “I’d feel a lot better about giving you jobs if you were staying at the drop house.”

“Why would that make any difference? Either I’m a risk or I’m not.”

“Staying here with Adrian is the risk,” Basso snapped. “He’s using you.”

Garrett clenched his fingers in the blanket but didn’t look away from Basso. Jeb’s comment rang in the back of his mind. “And you don’t? I’m just a thief, Basso. Or maybe I’m not even worthy of that title anymore.”

Basso recoiled and held up both his hands, a stricken look on his face. “Hey, whoa ... that’s not what I meant. I just—just want you to take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

Basso shoved his hands into his pockets again and stared down at the floor. “Fine. I better be off then before it gets too dark.”

The door shut behind Basso leaving Garrett alone in the room. He slumped back against the pillows, nausea churning in his gut. He’d been frustrated with Basso before but there had seemed a finality to this argument that had panic flaring in his chest. Why did the two people who mattered most to him hate each other? A frustrated groan slipped out. Unable to sit still any longer he climbed out of the bed.

Surely Basso wouldn’t quit giving him jobs altogether? Wouldn’t see this argument as an end to their friendship? The only person Garrett had known longer was the Queen of Beggars, and while he respected her he’d never thought of her as anything close to a friend. Walking over to the wardrobe he pulled it open and stared at his equipment. Had Basso’s insistence on Garrett’s going to the drop house been an ultimatum of sorts? Garrett couldn’t figure out why Basso seemed to think he’d be safer at the drop house. It didn’t get much safer than the Watch General’s private home. Avoiding the daily visits from Captains and Lieutenants picking up orders and dropping off paperwork was as easy as closing the door to the library.

Shutting the wardrobe Garrett sat down heavily on the bed. Adrian’s new coat lay discarded at the foot, the metal fittings glittering in the firelight. Reaching out he ran his fingers over the hardened leather sleeves. How could Basso so easily dismiss everything Adrian had gone through for them? For all the hateful things Basso said to him, Adrian had yet to defend himself.

He glanced toward the door again. Would Basso resent him for staying? For wanting to remain near Adrian? He didn’t want to lose the only other friend he had. Just the thought sent shivers of pain through him—memories of going on jobs together, years ago, before Basso retired to become a fence rather than a boxman. Of Basso patching him up whenever he got hurt, believing him when he wanted to go to Moira to find Erin, being there for him when he got back and had practically collapsed at his feet. Basso had never questioned him like this before; he might have worried about certain jobs, but he’d never doubted Garrett’s skills. What had changed?

Garrett wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring at Adrian’s coat. The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. Adrian poked his head out, as if worried he shouldn’t come into the room. Their gazes locked. Concern washed through the Primal. Then Adrian was striding across the room, wet skin gleaming in the light of the fire.

Adrian stopped at the foot of the bed, uncertainty playing across his features. The concern deepened, the look in his green eye troubled, interwoven with something that sent a rush of longing through Garrett. He got to his feet only to realize he was shaking. Adrian jerked forward then froze, white-knuckled hands clasped in front of him. Garrett stared up at him, waiting. Adrian didn’t move, his expression growing more desperate with each passing moment.

_I’ve been trying to do what you said and give him space._

Adrian lowered his head and started to turn away. Resignation rippled through the air.

No. He didn’t want this.

Garrett grabbed for Adrian’s wrist to stop him. Adrian sucked in a breath but didn’t move. Garrett hesitated a moment before stepping closer to wrap his arms around Adrian’s torso. Adrian smelled of lemon and lye, his skin still hot from the bath.

A white-hot thread shot through the Primal. And then Adrian was hugging him back. Gentle fingers slid through his hair to cradle the back of his head. Pulled him close. Garrett closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, letting Adrian’s heartbeat seep through him. He’d go see Ector tomorrow. First thing after sunset.


	16. Chapter 16

A knock on the bedroom door woke Adrian. He shifted around, tugging the pillow down to replace his arm as he eased it out from under Garrett’s head. He leaned down to place a light kiss on Garrett’s temple before climbing out of the bed. Another knock sounded before he could reach the door.

“I’m coming.”

He opened the door to find Reginald looking apologetic. “Sorry to wake you, sir, but Captain Leonard asked to see you before you left for work and since it is already after seven—”

“I’m running late. Please tell him I’ll be right there. Thank you for waking me.”

Adrian shrugged into his uniform coat and paused beside the bed as he closed the fastenings. No nightmares last night, for either of them. A rarity. It still made him smile thinking about the way Garrett had hugged him last night. He’d been so scared that Garrett preferred he keep his distance, and having Garrett actually reach out to him had rid him of much of that particular worry. Worry that once Garrett was healthy he’d leave and the only time Adrian would see him would be on his wanted posters.

Readjusting the eyepatch he berated himself for being selfish. He needed Garrett. Needed to have him close by. Needed to help him, to reassure himself that Garrett was safe and well. But he couldn’t cling to Garrett like some great limpet. Using Garrett like that would make him no better than the manipulator Basso thought him.

Adrian scooped his helmet up from the nightstand. He should be thinking of what Garrett needed, not only of himself. He still remembered how badly Garrett had wanted to help during their expedition, to the point that he'd nearly died trying to heal everyone in the cave. All the way home on the ship he'd had to talk Garrett out of trying again with the Primal to heal his missing eye. It had quickly become an old argument between them. It was almost as if Garrett believed he had to earn any kind of friendship.

Garrett needed to know he was useful. But more importantly, he needed to know that he mattered, that he wasn’t just a tool to be used. Treating him like a child wasn’t going to accomplish any of that. Adrian looked down at the helmet in his hands. He’d done just that the other day. Garrett had offered to help and Adrian had told him no and to stay out of sight, just like a parent with a child. Maybe that had been why Garrett had left that night and had been morose ever since. He couldn’t have let Garrett risk himself healing Morgan, but maybe he could have handled the situation better.

Tucking his helmet under his arm he opened the door. He’d have to figure out a solution later. Right now he was late for work. With one last glance at Garrett, he shut the door behind him.

Morgan was awake, dressed and pacing his room, the door already open. He glanced up as Adrian paused in the doorway.

“There you are. I was beginning to wonder. I’ve been thinking about what you told me. Why would Jeb need to search your office for information about the Black Tax? Wasn’t he working for Harlan?”

“From the reports I’ve read he helped with collections. Well … not only that.” Adrian paused. He’d not told anyone about the man who’d come by the office trying to bribe him. It had to have been Jeb. “He came to me personally a while back. Said he and Harlan had a partnership of sorts. Offered something similar to me: a portion of the Eelbiters’ profits in exchange for letting them do what they want in South Quarter. But now he’s wanting to find what Harlan did with the money.”

Morgan waved his hands in the air, a gleam in his eyes. “So the money is still out there, but somewhere Jeb can’t find it either. Harlan didn’t trust him with that information.”

“The only place we haven’t looked for clues is Harlan’s home.” Adrian leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and peered at Morgan. He’d never seen him quite this animated. Perhaps the idea of receiving a decent wage appealed to him as much as being able to pay one appealed to Adrian. At least August had been able to get them both new uniforms. Now they just needed the money to make sure all the men of the Watch had their promised helmets and hot meals.

“We can’t go barging in there without a warrant,” Morgan said as he resumed pacing, “and we don’t have any evidence to justify getting one. Being the last place we haven’t searched yet isn’t going to be good enough.”

Adrian mulled that over for a minute. August had only said to find evidence. He hadn’t said anything about where they could go looking for it. “I might have an idea. You know our informant, Basso? He might be able to help out.”

Morgan came to a stop and shook his head with a grunt. “He used to be a boxman, didn’t he? You think he might know something?”

Adrian fidgeted. He had no intention of talking to Basso if he could avoid it. But if the evidence existed, he knew Garrett could find it. As long as Garrett felt well enough, and agreed to go along with the plan. He wouldn’t be able to pay Garrett for the job, but perhaps he could keep whatever else he found in the house that struck his fancy? Within reason. He’d have to be careful. August wanted to distance himself as much as possible from the Thief-Taker, and using a thief to steal evidence was almost certainly more than he’d be willing to allow.

“Not as such, but rumor is he knows someone who can help us.”

“This … someone. He’s reliable?”

“The best.”

He’d talk to Garrett tonight, as soon as he got off work, though he’d have to figure out how to approach him about the subject. If he was going to ask Garrett to go outside in this weather it was time for a new cloak.

 

 

Garrett slipped into Ector’s workshop, surprised to find him pacing in front of his desk instead of hunched over another project behind it.

“Where is he? Where is he?” Ector muttered, flitting from one dismembered automaton to the next. “I’m running out of time.”

Garrett edged over to the bench. The usual clutter had been swept clean, only a scattering of miniature screwdrivers and a set of callipers left lying out beside the toolbox. The parchment drawings were nowhere to be seen. There was no sign of the eye.

“There you are!”

Garrett retreated a step toward the door as Ector scurried toward him.

“Where have you been? It’s been days! I needed you days ago. No matter. You’re here. You’re here and I have something you must—simply must—get for me.”

“That’s not why I was told you wanted to see me.” Garrett narrowed his eyes, glaring at Ector. Had the news about the eye just been a ruse to get him here?

“Yes, yes, the eye. I know how to fix it now! The Soul of the Automaton. Bring me the Soul and it will work. My associate has it locked up in a safe in the Vale Street Ironworks at Cinderfall. A small matter for you, I’m sure. But I must have it.”

Garrett watched Ector wring his hands as he thought back. Basso had sent him to the foundry, months ago, in search of the ring for Orion. If the safe Ector meant was the same one he’d found in the abandoned workshop, he’d stolen its contents long ago. And had them taken from him.

“How recently was this Soul put in the safe?”

“Last summer, just before the Graven Riots broke out.”

Garrett bit back a groan and turned away. Harlan had taken it, and he had no idea where it might be now. Not even any rumors he could investigate.

“You are certain it would get the eye working?”

“Oh yes! Yes, I am sorry I didn’t think of it sooner but the Soul has amazing properties that when applied can work wonders. Here, let me show you a drawing of what it looks like so you will know it when you see it.”

Ector pulled a crate out from under the bench and started digging through it. “Now, this safe is in a workroom near the back of the foundry.”

“Why didn’t you get it?”

“Oh, no. No, the Watch aren’t allowing anyone inside. Strictly off-limits.”

So they’d never discovered it was missing. Not entirely surprising given the events of the last few months. Ector made a small delighted noise and slapped a sheet of parchment down onto the bench.

“This is it.”

Garrett took a step closer to look at the drawing and instantly recognized it. He distinctly remembered this piece and the rather strange automaton he’d found inside the workroom. Picking up the drawing he studied it for a moment.

“How is this supposed to fix the eye?”

“Oh, er … well … It’s not the soul itself but what is inside of it. I really can’t say more until I have it.”

“And you are certain this is the only way?”

Ector’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes.”

Garrett let the page drop from his hand and turned toward the door. This was useless.

“Wait! Wait, Master Thief. You will get it, won’t you?”

Garrett shut the door behind him and trudged up the stairs toward Clock Tower Plaza. This whole trip had been a waste of time. Though he had little else to do right now.

The journey home was cold and miserable and he was glad he’d decided not to take any detours. It started snowing before he’d reached the river. The small flakes felt like shards of glass being driven against his face and hands as he walked. By the time he reached the quay he couldn’t stop shivering. Linnet and Siskin were bundled against the weather in heavy oilskin coats, barely more than their eyes showing beneath the scarves pulled up across their faces. Siskin gave him a concerned look as he got into the boat. Thankfully she didn’t comment. He took his seat and sat huddled trying to conserve his body heat and work some warmth back into his fingers.

The thought of reaching home and sitting by the fire with some hot tea faded into thoughts of Adrian’s warm embrace and those large hands rubbing feeling back into his fingers. Shuddering, he drew his arms closer against his sides as those infuriating flutters managed to warm his middle. Someday he’d figure out what they meant.

For now he had to figure out how he was going to pass the time until Basso decided it was safe to give him a job. Assuming he ever did. He wasn’t sure why Basso didn’t seem to trust him or his skills any more, but he wouldn’t end their partnership over an argument. Would he? Maybe he should see if any of the other fences he knew of needed a thief. They wouldn’t pay as well as Basso. Some would be more likely to turn him in for the bounty than offer him a job. He’d just have to be careful.

Adrian’s window was wide open, the curtains drawn back. Snow swirled inside, melting into a puddle on the rug pushed beneath the window. Garrett climbed over the sill and stood just inside, head down and eyes closed, letting the warmth seep into him. A rustle of cloth had him looking up.

Adrian walked toward him carrying what looked like a blanket. The familiar smile was back in full force as Adrian wrapped it around his shoulders. This was heavier than just a blanket. Warmer, too. Garrett looked down and realized there were two short leather buckles across the front. Another cloak? He ran his fingers over the heavy wool and dark brown velvet lining. This couldn’t be for him. Why would Adrian loan him another when he’d lost the last one?

He finally raised his gaze to Adrian’s as the hood was drawn up. Adrian beamed at him.

“Well, it looks a bit silly with both your hoods up, but it should work better than nothing.”

Did that mean what he thought it meant? He’d done nothing to deserve this.

“Adrian, you’ll need it when you go out.”

Adrian straightened and put his hands on his hips. His smile faltered just a bit then recovered. “Ah, no. It’s yours. Far too small for me; my ankles would freeze solid. If it’s easier we can call this a retaining fee.”

“Retaining fee?”

Adrian offered him a soft chuckle then reached out and tapped the end of Garrett’s nose. He turned and headed for one of the chairs pulled up close to the blazing fire.

“Why don’t you shut that window? I’m freezing. Once you eat and get warm there is something I need to talk to you about.”

After closing the window Garrett joined Adrian sitting by the fire, marvelling at the richness of the cloak. He wrapped it around himself as he sat, letting it pool around his feet. The last one had been lighter, meant for warmer weather. With this one he’d not have to worry about freezing to death if he stayed out more than a few hours. Rubbing the edge of the cloak between his fingers he watched Adrian fuss with the warming kettle set out on the low table. Question after question rose in his mind, but the soft pulse of Adrian’s contentment through the Primal kept him silent.

Garrett took the teacup Adrian offered him. Burning prickles worked their way through his numb fingers as he cradled its warmth between his hands. He let himself savor the way the Primal glimmered around Adrian, the different shades of gold mesmerizing to watch. He caught himself reaching out through the Primal in search of what they meant. The Primal always seemed stronger and more active when he was around Adrian, though he’d never figured out why.

As soon as Garrett set down his empty cup Adrian handed him a plate. The gingerbread was sticky, and still warm from the oven. Elsie must have been baking again.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

“A favor?” What was there that he could possibly do for Adrian? He’d made it clear the other day that he thought healing people was too risky.

“Yes, something that only you can do.” Adrian grinned at him and Garrett suddenly found it difficult to focus on eating. “I’ve been searching for clues to where Harlan hid all the money he collected from the Black Tax. I’ve gone through every ledger I can find and through all the surviving files. I searched everywhere we can think of, except one place.”

Garrett set his plate to the side and leaned forward. “His house.”

“Yes. Please don’t stop eating.” Adrian waited until Garrett picked up the plate again before speaking. “Captain Leonard and I both think that given certain information it’s the only logical place to search for any clues. His widow lives alone with only a four man security detail. What I need for you to do is get inside and see if you can find any clues that might point to where the money is hidden. Anything you find that might implicate him, such as a ledger or receipt book or even a journal, would be perfect.”

“Does Captain Leonard know about this? Does he know about me?”

“He … he thinks I’m hiring Basso, our Watch informant. Though I’m not so sure Basso would be best pleased about talking to me these days.” Adrian looked away, brushing his palm over the armrest. He glanced back with a quick grin. “Besides, you’re his best thief. Basso would give the job to you anyway, so may as well cut out the middle man.”

Garrett forced himself to sit still and focus on the food but his mind raced. The gingerbread crumbled under his fingers as he tried to think of a response. Basso wouldn’t even give him a simple fetch job right now, but if he told Adrian that he might think twice about letting him help. He settled for nodding and hoped that would suffice. He’d need time to plan, to gather information, to learn the guards’ patrol routes and Widow Harlan’s social habits.

“His house is in Dayport. I already sent for the blueprints registered with the City.”

“Trying to do my job for me?” Garrett tried to suppress a smirk and failed.

“Er, no … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“Send them back. It might look a bit suspicious if you ask for the blueprints and then a few days later things come up missing.”

“Oh, right.” Adrian groaned and slumped in his chair.

“There’s other ways to get hold of the plans without needing to leave a trail behind.”

“Such as?”

“Eastwick always kept a copy of the plans for his projects. His wife fled the City—with luck there should still be something at his house.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed, then shot wide. “Wait … the night the Keep fell. That was you?”

“I needed into the Keep. I was in a hurry.” Garrett shrugged.

Adrian blinked several times, mouth agape. “I shot at you!”

“And you missed. Maybe you need more target practice.”

Adrian shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving Garrett. “Everyone missed. I’m just glad you survived both the Keep and the Thief-Taker. I’m not even sure I want to know about the ride in the safe. So does this mean you’ll do it?”

“Break into the former Watch General’s private home at the request of two Watch Captains? Sounds like a trap to me.”

Adrian gaped at him, the Primal flashing a blinding white for a split-second before he sat up straight. A hurt look crossed his face even as the Primal twisted around itself. Garrett’s stomach followed suit.

“Garrett, that’s hardly funny. I would never ask you do something I thought might get you hurt.”

Garrett looked down at the half-finished plate of food balanced on his knees. “You’ve never asked me to do anything before.”

Silence fell over the room, the only sound the fire crackling in the grate. Then a soft sigh from Adrian.

“I know and that’s been unfair of me. I’m sorry. You do understand why healing Morgan or myself might have drawn too much attention?”

“Yes.” Garrett grimaced as the word came out sounding more sullen than he’d intended.

“I’m sorry you’ve been stuck here. I know you’d be more comfortable at home in the clock tower.”

The comment startled Garrett. At one time he might have thought of the clock tower as home, when it held all the things he’d considered important. It was an empty shell now—there was nothing to return to—and the more he thought about it the more he wondered if he’d ever really considered it a home. Home held an entirely different meaning to him now. It wasn’t just a place where he stashed stolen baubles. Disconcerted by the train of thought he set his plate to the side.

“You’ve been in it. How comfortable do you really think it is in the winter? Besides, having to cross the river by boat anytime I want to go on a job gets tiresome.”

“I thought Basso offered his place?” Adrian wouldn’t look at him and the sudden flare of sadness and resignation in the Primal confused Garrett.

“And have to eat his cooking? I’d rather go back to sloop.”

“It’s really that bad?”

“No, nothing is as bad as sloop, but Basso’s cooking is close.”

Adrian started to smile, then sobered again. “You know, Garrett, I’m not trying to keep you here unless you want to be here. And I’m not trying to make you feel useless. After everything that’s happened to us I have a hard time not worrying. I really do need your help with this Black Tax issue, but I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

Garrett stroked his fingers over his cloak again. Knowing that Adrian had asked for his help despite being worried and had even gone out of his way to see to it that Garrett was prepared set the flutters alight once more.

“I promise, I’ll be fine. If what you need is there, I’ll find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HIATUS NOTICE:**  
>  Hiya! I just wanted to let you know I will be taking a short hiatus from writing fic while I finish working on my next novel. I hope to be back writing Garrett and Adrian by June. Thank you so much for supporting me and all your lovely comments. In case you are curious as to what I'm working, the link to the first book in the series is below.  
> https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B01A92WOB6&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_S1Bbxb1Y0W3F0


	17. Chapter 17

Garrett crouched on the stable block roof watching the third floor windows of Harlan’s townhouse. Seen from the back, the terrace of grand homes was far less imposing. The ornately dressed limestone façades dominating Hamilton Street out front gave way to rows of ugly grey brick extensions and outbuildings huddled around cobbled yards.

The steam pipes had invaded even here in one of Dayport’s richest districts. They wound between and through the buildings, clinging to the brickwork with rusting iron bolts. Eastwick’s handiwork, like so many of Northcrest’s projects, and the reason why architectural blueprints to most of the City could be found squirrelled away in Eastwick's study. Garrett had found the plans to Harlan's townhouse among them, just as he’d thought. Madeleine Eastwick had fled the City during the Graven riots, leaving the house deserted, the windows shuttered and boarded over. With no guards around, breaking in to search for the plans he needed had been as easy as letting himself in through the front door.

A light breeze had picked up, driving away the lingering scent of burnt sugar caught in his cloak and mask. An unwelcome gift, courtesy of the opium salon a few hundred yards back up the street whose bellows had wheezed into life below him as he crept over the roof tiles, engulfing him in a cloud of stale poppymist. It was years since he’d been caught out like that. He hadn’t visited this particular part of Dayport in—nearly two years, now he thought about it. But he still should have noticed the unmistakable odor and steered well clear of that particular chimney. He couldn’t afford to miss details like that, and he certainly couldn’t risk breaking in anywhere still reeking of poppy. He pushed the thought away. The smell was gone now and he needed to focus on the job ahead of him.

The houses along the street were still mostly occupied, the only empty home on the far side from Harlan’s. He’d spent a couple of nights in the area, watching to figure out the routines of the servants and other families living along the street. Something about seeing the people coming and going had Garrett feeling better, though about what he wasn’t certain. Perhaps part of him had feared that the City would never recover at all.

Adrian hadn’t said anything about his being gone the last two nights, though Elsie had accidentally woken him coming in to take care of things. She’d just given him this strange little smile and gone back out. Come to think of it, that was new. He’d been glad for the disturbance. Once again Adrian had departed for work leaving him to sleep. He couldn’t sleep all day and potentially allow anything to leak through the Primal to upset Adrian whilst he was working. Not if the danger posed by Jeb and his Eelbiters was even half as bad as Adrian had made it sound. Though forcing himself to stay awake until Adrian got home left him yawning and irritable. He would creep home cold and aching as the sky brightened, with only a few hours’ sleep left before Adrian woke. It was wearing on him, but he had little other choice. Not that now was the time or place to dwell on it.

A dim candlelit glow flickered in the far left window, a figure silhouetted against the glass. Ernestine Harlan was still awake. From what Garrett had seen, the widow apparently slept poorly and was often restless, but once she retired to bed she didn't leave her rooms again until the morning. As long as he stayed well clear of her she didn't pose him any danger. The two guards patrolling the main stairs were who he needed to watch for.

Something settled in him as he scanned the windows, easing a tension he'd barely been aware of. This was what he knew best. This was home. Tonight would put to rest the uncertainty and frustration, would prove that he was still useful. Still a master at what he did.

His sigh hung white in the chill air before it blew away with the wind. He might prove it to himself, but Basso was another matter. Even if everything went perfectly tonight, he wasn't sure if he dared let Basso know. He didn't want to provoke his fence; Basso already no longer trusted him. _I'm trying to look out for you here_. If only he knew how to earn that trust back. Garrett didn't want Basso looking out for him. He wasn't some child to be protected and coddled. He wasn't going to be a burden to anyone.

A light dipped and bobbed past the third floor window. One of the two guards going down the stairs. The other two had gone off duty hours before, hopefully long asleep. Garrett counted off the seconds as he waited for the guard to return to the same spot. After a third time to make certain of the timing he started across the roof, pulling his new cloak closer about him. The heavy dense wool did an excellent job of warding off most of the cold, keeping him from stiffening up in the chill weather.

He’d decided to enter through the attic window. The windows on the lower floors were barred and of no use to him. From the floor plans the attic should give him easy access to the third floor where three rooms opened off a landing. Ernestine slept in the large bedroom at the rear, but in the two nights he’d watched the house no lamps had been lit in either of the rooms overlooking the street. Rumor held that the Harlans’ marriage had not been a happy one. If his guess was right, those darkened rooms would be where he’d find Thaddeus Harlan’s bedroom. And, hopefully, his study. If the information Adrian needed was in the house, that would be the best place for him to begin the search.

If he was fortunate, searching the study might also reveal hints of where he could find the Soul of the Automaton. Adrian had said that the Glittering Plumage found its way into Miss Scarlett’s hands via one of the City magistrates. If Harlan had used Garrett’s collection to curry favor with the nobility there might be a record of his bribes, something he could use to track down the Soul. Though he was careful to avoid thinking about the possibility of Ector being able to rebuild Adrian’s eye. He didn’t think he could take having his hopes dashed a third time. At least he’d saved Adrian from the same disappointment.

He’d been glad of the chance to do something besides sit and read, and the research and reconnaissance had given him a better idea of his physical abilities. He couldn’t run far or for long, but he shouldn’t have to as long as he was careful. Climbing was still a challenge, but he no longer had the weak trembling feeling that had plagued him for so long. Though he wasn’t about to push himself like he had at the bridge. Maybe he should have taken August’s advice sooner.

Garrett picked his way noiselessly over the tiles until he stood directly below the attic window. A quick throw, and the claw’s teeth lodged in the row of metal spikes that ran along the base of the roofline. He gave the rope a tug to set the claw and braced a foot on the wall. Grasping the rope with both hands he pulled himself up, or tried to. His hands slipped, his grip too weak. He readjusted and tried again. His shoulders immediately started to burn under the strain. He’d only get one try at this. He couldn’t afford to wear himself out just climbing in a window.

By the time he made it halfway his harness had slid to the side and was cutting into him, making breathing difficult. He’d tightened the laces as far as they’d go, but it was still too loose. There was no stopping now. He could fix it once he was home and safe. Right now he just had to get the window open. It took him several tense moments before he could get into position. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much difficulty just climbing up to a window. He wasn’t even inside the house yet and he was already short of breath and shaking from the exertion. It would be fine. This was the hardest part.

The sash slid smoothly in its track and he straddled the sill as he jerked the claw free. With it and the rope safely stowed he stepped fully into the warm dark room. The window thumped shut behind him. A soft snort and sleepy mumble froze him in his tracks. He took several slow deep breaths and focused on remaining perfectly still even though his limbs still shook from the climb. Was the room occupied? How had he missed that? He waited until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

This wasn’t an attic storeroom; it was a bedroom. Judging from the gleam of the swords hanging in the rack by the door this wasn’t the servants’ room either. The off-duty guards slept to either side of him. It was either go back out the window and find another entry point or keep moving forward. Well, he was already here. He might as well keep going. He’d just have to watch his step.

Garrett knelt in front of the door and peered through the keyhole. After a full minute of not seeing or hearing anyone he eased the door open and stepped into the hall. He crept over to the banister and looked down to the landing below. There was no sign of the guard he’d seen from outside. That didn’t mean he had time to linger. He’d already wasted far too long on the climb.

He took his time down the stairs, being careful to distribute his weight to prevent the boards creaking. He’d just made it to the third floor landing when he heard the heavy thump of boots coming up the stairs from below. He darted around the staircase and hid in the dark space underneath it, skin clammy and heart thudding painfully in his chest. Opposite where he crouched with his back to the stairs, he could see a closed door. One of the two unused rooms he’d been aiming for. He’d have to wait until the guard went back downstairs. He didn’t want to risk being seen while unlocking the door.

The worn leather jerkin gleamed in the light of the handheld oil lamp as the guard strode into view. He headed for the far side of the landing where two doors faced each other across a short hallway, turning to knock softly at the door to the left. When no answer came the guard turned the knob and stuck his head through the door.

Movement at the guard’s feet caught Garrett’s attention. A black cat slunk out through the crack in the door and wound its way around the guard’s ankles, chirruping at him hopefully. He gave a soft chuckle and crouched, setting the oil lamp down on the rug as he scratched behind the cat’s ears.

Light from the oil lamp spilled across the floor, eating away at the shadows. The underside of the stair risers dug into Garrett’s shoulders as he drew further back into what little cover remained, not daring to breathe. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the hem of his cloak where it pooled around his feet, clearly visible in the throw of light. How could he have missed that?

Retrieving his lamp, the guard pushed himself to his feet. He nudged the cat toward the door with the toe of his boot. It dodged, circling round to headbutt him on the shin.

“Go on, get in with you. I’m working.”

Garrett grabbed for his cloak, yanking it close around himself as the guard pulled the door closed and turned back toward the stairs. He clenched his fingers in the fabric, body tense. The attic window was too far if he was seen now, and the guard was between him and the stairs. He didn’t blink as the guard’s gaze swept past his hiding spot, wary of even that small movement giving him away. The cat trotted after the guard for a few paces but soon lost interest, instead settling itself in the middle of the rug to wash its ears.

By the time the glow of the lamp disappeared around the corner of the stairwell Garrett’s heart no longer raced. Piercing yellow eyes watched with interest as he unfolded himself from the cramped space. The lock only took a few seconds to pick and he let himself in, careful not to let the door make any noise as it swung closed behind him.

The close musty smell filtered through his mask. How long had the room been shut up? It certainly didn’t look as though it had been touched for quite some time. A thin film of dust covered every surface. Even the rug under his feet was stiff. Avoiding touching anything he made a complete inspection of the room. The bookshelves were full and every available surface was covered with files, newspapers, journals, ledgers and bundles of letters. He happened across a framed set of gloves near the bookshelf and shuddered. Apparently Harlan had taken his own trophy from the raid on the clock tower. Garrett would recognize his old gloves anywhere.

Bewildered by the volume of paperwork, Garrett tried to work out where to start looking for what Adrian needed and what might have happened to the Soul. The desk would be the best place to start. After an hour of combing through the paperwork and stifling sneezes from the dust he was growing worried. Everything he’d found so far was either mundane Watch business or related to himself in some fashion. He’d even come across a journal detailing known and suspected sightings and locations of places he’d stolen from, along with clippings of newspaper articles featuring many of his more high profile jobs. There was even a decent sketch of himself tucked between the pages. Harlan had been quite methodical in trying to track him down. He pocketed the journal and went back through the drawers again but there was nothing remarkable in them either. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed a single note. He only had a few more hours to find what he needed and get home.

Sitting in the worn leather chair he surveyed the room again. The muted light from the streetlamps didn’t illuminate a solution. He could use the Primal to find what he searched for. Using it for just a few seconds wouldn’t hurt him, but doing so still brought with it memories of Rozzen. There wasn’t time to waste and it would be quickest. With a grimace Garrett steeled himself and focused. Blue overlaid his vision for a moment then faded. He blinked several times before looking around the room. Nothing glowed blue until he turned to look at the wall behind him.

The large picture over the fireplace glowed a pale blue, the brighter blue of handprints along the frame and the surrounding wall. A hidden safe?

Stepping over to it Garrett took his first good look at the painting. A chill shot through him as he studied it. He chided himself for being overly paranoid. Harlan had been dead for months. An overly lifelike portrait of him shouldn’t have him itching for cover. Besides, whatever he needed lay behind that painting.

“Thaddeus, you really put the pain in painting. Only you would want a portrait of yourself.”

The thick frame hid no catches, but did swing away from the wall when Garrett tugged on it. A map had been carefully tacked to the plaster.

The old vellum was cracked with age, but the ink was crisp and clear. The map had to be several hundred years old. No, even older. Much of what Garrett knew of the City wasn’t depicted and some of the names were unfamiliar, but Baron’s Way still ran the length of the island. The Crippled Burrick was in its old location near Shalebridge. This map was old indeed if it pre-dated the Burrick’s being moved. From before the fire, at least—NRy662? No Moira Asylum either, so even older. At least 400 years old. How had it ended up in Harlan’s hands and why had he wanted a map this outdated? What had he been looking for?

Someone, likely Harlan, had circled several spots on the map. One near the Old Cathedral, one where Clockwise had lived, one close to Terces Courtyard on the northwest edge of Stonemarket, and another in South Quarter a little way north of the Docks. Garrett unpinned the map and laid it on the desk so he could see it better. What was special about these locations?

He started to move the painting back into place and realized the frame was much thicker than it should be. The paper backing was loose, and creased across the bottom corner. He teased away the edge of the backing and caught the thin sheaf of papers that fell out. A series of invoices. He spread them out on the desk next to the map. It looked like Harlan had been doing some renovations downstairs. This close to Cinderfall, the steam pipes along Hamilton Street had been among the first installed in the City. Eastwick’s plans were a decade out of date. No wonder the renovations weren’t included.

Whatever Harlan had been working on, it seemed the work had been left unfinished. The oldest invoice was clipped to a sketched floorplan of what looked like a second basement dug into the foundations. He searched through them until he found the most recent, dated only a few weeks later. They’d barely even dirtied the shovels before they stopped. Why would Harlan abandon the work so soon? And why had he wanted a second basement in the first place? Hidden invoices could mean something else was going on. He looked through the invoices again, reading more carefully. The newest was from a different company, for a locking metal trapdoor. Whatever was down there was locked up tight. Might be worth checking out. There didn’t seem to be anything else useful to Adrian here.

He needed to make his way to the cellar and see what he could find. The main stairs were out—both guards patrolled them—but the servants’ stairs should be clear.

Gathering up the loose papers he laid them with the map and rolled everything up into a tight scroll before securing it with a bit of twine from one of the drawers. Carefully stowing it in his quiver he turned to swing the painting back into place. His foot collided with something hard that skittered across the floor, bouncing off the skirting with a metallic _thunk_. That hadn’t been there a few moments ago. He knelt to find a heavy looking key lying against the wall. Did that go with the trapdoor? Best to take it. He slipped it inside his left bracer and double-checked to make sure he’d not missed anything else.

Instead of going back through the study door to the landing, Garrett unlocked the connecting door. The bedroom was unoccupied, the bed unmade and the furniture sheeted over. Though that wasn’t surprising. No one came in here. He waited at the door that opened to the hall until the creaking on the stairs retreated. Slipping out he headed for the landing, where he’d find the door he needed by the top of the stairs.

He stepped on what felt like a wrinkle in the rug and nearly jumped out of his skin at the furious yowl. A dark shadow shot down the hall in front of him and toward the stairs, sounding more like a herd of horses than a single cat.

“What is going on out there? You leave Ferdinand alone!”

Garrett sprinted after the cat.

“What’s that racket?” a guard yelled from below.

As he reached for the door handle he saw the top of the guard’s helmet rounding the turn in the stairs. Garrett darted behind the door, snatching at his cloak and drawing it close around him to make certain it wasn’t visible. Blinking sweat out of his eyes he listened to the guard shuffle across the landing, muttering at the cat. He snatched up his blackjack as the door moved but it only swung shut. Slumped back against the wall, Garrett gave himself a moment to gather his wits before starting down the brightly lit hall to the servants’ stairs.

At the bottom he knelt to look through the keyhole. Heavy footsteps echoed in the stairwell above him, but didn’t seem to be coming any closer. The space beyond was dim, light coming from somewhere off to one side. He let himself into the basement corridor and the door clicked shut behind him. Another door blocked the corridor to his left, leading to the front of the house if he remembered right. The sketch of the planned basement had shown the new stairs leading down from somewhere near the kitchen at the rear.

Someone was singing. Was the maid already up and working in the kitchen? Just how long had he taken in the study? It didn’t matter. He had nearly reached his objective. The hall angled around to the right, but directly ahead of him was an open doorway. Grooves gouged into the architrave revealed where the hinges had been removed, and deep scratches in the flagstones led through the opening. Something large and heavy had been dragged through here. In the middle of the tiny room—hardly larger than a cupboard—a large metal trapdoor sat flush with the stone floor. He resisted the urge to hurry down the hall. He couldn’t risk making noise, not if the maid was awake and nearby.

The key fit the lock. A good thing too; it was a bolt action lock, and not something he could have picked. He tugged at the door, which he’d have bet money weighed nearly as much as Adrian. There was no chance he could lift it on his own. He glanced around the room again. A pulley system hung overhead. That would be much easier. He could attach his rope to the ring on the trapdoor and use the pulley to lift it. A second ring on the wall behind the door gave him some extra leverage, but it still took every ounce of his strength and left him panting. He tied off the rope and went to look down the opening. Someone had attached a ladder to the side of the hole. Whatever was down here was either too large or too heavy to carry down the ladder.

The space at the bottom of the ladder was larger than he’d anticipated. Darker, too. A pair of unlit oil lamps sat on the uneven dirt floor behind the ladder. He almost picked one up even though he knew he didn’t need it. Using the Primal would be less risky. He concentrated, forcing aside the memory of so many days spent doing the same at Rozzen’s bidding until it drained every last bit of his strength. Three sides of the irregularly-shaped room had been hacked straight out of the earth, but the fourth was flat, and lined with rough-cut stone blocks. More scratches in the floor led toward the far wall where several blocks were missing, forming a jagged arch leading into darkness.

The air grew still and musty as Garrett stepped through the arch into the dark space beyond. Dripping water echoed from somewhere in the distance. It was much bigger than he’d anticipated. A line of stone columns ran the length of the room, reminding him of the ancient library he’d found under the House of Blossoms. Carved archways lined the far wall, through which he could glimpse yet more rooms identical to this one. This couldn’t have been part of Harlan’s renovations. It wasn’t possible to have built this in only a few weeks.

Crates and boxes were stacked in rows along each wall. Searching even just this room would take some time. Time he currently did not have. He’d start with the ones which looked to have been moved most recently. Those closest to the entry should be the newest, he hoped. He reached the first trunk and was surprised to find it unlocked. His breath caught in his chest as the contents lit up in his sight.

There was no mistaking the words painstakingly inscribed on the back of the topmost canvas.

_Worms turn even vivid memories to dust. There's a worm in my brain. I think it's you._

The Court of Montonessi. All of them, from the looks of it. He took out three of the loose canvases and let the lid thump shut. Once the paintings were rolled and safely stowed in his quiver along with the map he scanned the room again. Judging by the number of crates and chests, more of his collection might be here. Maybe other treasures as well.

“This might take a while.”

The Soul was the first thing on his list. He found it in the next chest, carefully wrapped in cotton cloth. He dropped it into a sack and tied it to his belt to keep it safe. Shutting the chest he wished he could carry more things out. There wasn’t time. It would be daylight soon and he still hadn’t found the evidence Adrian needed.

A stack of ledgers had been stuffed into the only locked chest in the room. Pulling the topmost ledger from the pile Garrett flicked through the pages. Harlan had amassed much more than they’d ever guessed. The Black Tax made up the bulk of the entries, but there were also mentions of minor nobles and various merchants, and this covered only a single season. Hopefully it would be evidence enough for August to order a legal search of the premises. But even if it wasn’t, selling off the Montonessi paintings should raise enough for Adrian to reform the Watch like he wanted. That alone would bring a smile to Adrian’s face. Garrett doubted that Harlan would have trusted anyone else with a key to his hoard. If he took the key with him, no one else could disturb the chests. Now he knew where they were hidden, he could come back another night to retrieve more of his things if more were needed.

And now he had the Soul too. Ector would be able to rebuild the mechanical eye. He really should prepare himself for the inevitable failure but it was hard not to acknowledge the flicker of warmth washing over him.

Garrett tucked the ledger inside his harness as he stood, his hand lingering over the Soul where it hung from his belt. He turned to leave, gliding tingling fingers over the chests as he passed each one in turn. For the first time in longer than he could remember he didn’t feel weighted to the ground. The fatigue had melted away and now he was anxious to return home. His pace quickened. The sooner he got out of here the sooner he’d be able to show Adrian what he’d found. And the sooner he could get the Soul to Ector. Adrian would have his new eye.

Once he was up the ladder he untied the rope from the ring on the wall. The rope dragged him forward as he struggled to lower the great weight of the trapdoor without crashing it into the stone floor. He locked the trapdoor and tucked the key back into his bracer. He waited a moment to make sure no one was in the hall. The maid was still clattering around the kitchen, probably starting breakfast. Adrian would be up soon. So would the well-rested guards. He needed to hurry.

He paused at the bottom of the servants’ stairs. Attempting the attic window again would be too risky. The guards could wake any moment, and the very last thing he needed was to stumble into them on his way out. He’d found what he’d come for. It was time to go. With the maid already up and in the kitchen, the housekeeper’s rooms at the front of the house would be deserted, leaving the tradesman’s entrance under the front porch as his best option. He could avoid the guards upstairs and escape undetected. Hopefully it was early enough yet that the street would still be mostly deserted. If he was careful he’d be able to find a way to the roofs without being seen.

The door past the foot of the stairs was locked. The last tumbler fell into place and the door swung out at his touch. A soft click to his right was the only warning. He threw himself backward. Bolts thudded into the left-hand wall, sending plaster chips flying.

Garrett sat sprawled on the flagstones, staring blankly down the corridor. His lungs convulsed with the need for air. Forcing numb limbs to cooperate he regained his feet. He leaned a hand against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow until his heart no longer raced. He couldn’t be this distracted. The Thief-Taker General’s private home was not the place to be making these kinds of careless mistakes. He started forward, wary of any secondary traps and tensed as something tugged at him. Two bolts pinned his cloak to the wall. He’d come much closer to being injured than he’d thought.

The bolts didn’t want to come loose but he wasn’t about to leave behind his brand new cloak. Not on what should have been a relatively easy mission. He’d just laid the first bolt on the floor when he heard the intake of breath behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. The maid stood wide-eyed at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth open as she stared at him.

“Thief!”

The shriek hurt his ears and he tugged at the fabric of the cloak. That noise would have the guards on him in no time.

“Guards! Guards! A thief!” She turned and darted up the stairs.

Garrett ripped his cloak free. The bolt clattered to the floor. The corridor was still empty. He sprinted for the opposite end and the exit. He had to get out of the house. Now. Before the guards realized where he was.

The bolt on the outside door was stiff and heavier than he expected. It didn’t want to move at first. He wrestled it back as boots thudded down the stairs behind him.

“Stop right there, blackhand!”

Garrett yanked the door open and bolted for the steps up to street level. The gate at the top was locked. He lost precious seconds vaulting the railings, narrowly missing the hand grabbing for his ankle. The guard rattled the gate, cursing at him.

The sky was already greying to the east with no morning fog to lose himself in. No handy hiding places or easy ways up to the roofs. He’d have to run. Garrett fled northeast back toward Baron’s Way. The gate crashed back on its hinges. Running footsteps pounded the cobbles behind him. Gradually but steadily drawing closer.

The alleyways might be his only chance. He’d never make it to the wall if he had to run the whole way. The guard was too close on his heels and he was already short of breath. The alley was boarded over. No time to pry anything loose. Gulping down air he forced himself faster.

He coughed and gasped as the burnt sugar smell of the opium salon hit him. He searched the building ahead for an entrance and saw a pair of men stumbling down the steps of the next shop. That had to be the main entrance. Risky. But he was too ragged to make it any further. Inside he might be able to ditch the guard and slip away.

Garrett slowed just enough to turn without skidding over on the slick cobbles. He bounded up the steps, shoving a customer into the armored thug guarding the door. They both fell amid shouts of surprise.

Inside, the stench was stronger still, the smoky haze making his eyes water. Good. He’d take anything that made it harder for the guard to see him. Brightly painted wooden screens divided the cramped room, the dimly lit alcoves occupied by figures lounging across beds and couches. He dodged a worker with a tray of cups and darted behind the nearest screen. A shout, and the crash of falling crockery. Angry voices. A patron stared bleary-eyed at him from the bed behind the screen. He dropped flat and rolled underneath. His cloak wound around his legs and he spent several breathless moments untangling himself while trying to listen for the guard. The raised voices back toward the entrance were headed his direction. He couldn’t stay here long.

His chest ached and his throat burned from the smoke. His feet were numb and tingling from running on the cold hard cobbles. How had Erin ever enjoyed the chase? There was nothing fun about running for your life.

The voices were closing in. From the sound of it his pursuer had solicited help. They’d be watching the front entrance. He needed to find another exit. Another bed sat a short distance away, behind it another screen and to the left a door. It opened and he caught a glimpse of stairs leading up as a maid entered carrying a chamberpot. He couldn’t see a guard.

A hand to his belt; he still had the Soul. A steadying breath, and he scuttled across the rug and under the next bed. The screen sat nearly flush with the far side of the bed and would hopefully shield him from view for a little bit. He lay facing out into the room as he monitored the bare and stockinged feet shuffling through the room. Two pairs of boots stopped next to the bed.

“He’s gotta be here somewheres.”

“We’ll ‘ave to split up and cover the exits.

The boots passed the end of the bed and around to the other side of the screen. Not stopping to think about it Garrett heaved himself out from under the bed. Leaping on top of the bed he flung himself at the screen. It toppled and crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs and armor. Furious shouting chased him through the door and up the stairs.

The next floor was just as chaotic with the same screened alcoves and reclining patrons as downstairs, but there were windows. Without bars this time. Through the frost-covered glass he could make out the roof of the next building over. Anything was safer than running at street level and the guards would most likely not follow him.

The window shuddered open letting in a gust of frigid air. A short drop to the icy roof below and up a pipe to the next, and he was out of sight. Staggering over to the chimney stack he flopped down with his back to the warm bricks, his chin dropping to his chest. His heartbeat thumped painfully loud in his ears, his mask soaked with sweat. He pulled it away and breathed in the cold morning air.

Once the dark spots faded from his vision he took out the Soul and carefully unwrapped it. Polished metal and glass gleamed in the first rays of the dawn. The shimmering blue within seemed to pulse in time with his heart. For all his missteps and mistakes tonight, he had the Soul, and the proof August needed to seize Harlan’s assets.

Now to get it to Adrian. The early morning sunlight wasn’t enough to blind Garrett just yet but he needed to hurry. He couldn’t risk getting caught outside during daylight hours. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get back home across the river. Siskin and Linnet would have tied up their boat for the day, and as exhausted as he was crossing the ruined bridge was out of the question.

Adrian was awake. If Garrett concentrated he could sense Adrian’s concern that wasn’t quite full-blown worry just yet. He was probably either getting ready for work or already on his way. Garrett might be able to find him before he reached the Watch Office, and at the very least hand over the ledger and the key. Maybe after that he could find an abandoned apartment to rest in until Ector opened his workshop. There were a few places in Stonemarket he could check, though he’d have to be even more careful now that it was daylight. He rewrapped the Soul in its cloth and set it carefully back in the sack at his belt. Bracing his hand against the brickwork he pushed himself upright and limped eastward on aching feet.


	18. Chapter 18

Ice crunched under Adrian’s boots as he walked across the dock. The steep steps were slick from windblown spray and he kept a tight grip on the rope handrail. The lanterns still glowed overhead, helping him pick out the icy patches as he walked up the second set of stairs to reach street level. The sun hid behind the hills beyond Auldale, but a rosy glow lit up the eastern sky.

Keeping a stranglehold on the worry that had woken him earlier than normal, Adrian looked northwest toward Dayport. Garrett had to be fine, even if he was still missing. There’d been no pain through the Primal, no panic. Adrian had to trust him. Trust him to be alright, to keep himself safe. Still, it might not hurt to check last night’s arrest records. Just to be certain. If they were clean, then maybe he should pass by the house to make sure nothing was amiss. He trusted Garrett, but—if all was well then Garrett would never know Adrian had checked. And if something had happened, if Garrett was in trouble … He needed to be certain. He wasn’t going to fail Garrett again.

“Captain Barbeaux.”

Adrian jerked his head up. One of the newer Watch recruits strode toward the ferry, huffing over his red-knuckled fingers in an effort to keep warm. He offered Adrian a smile and a brisk nod.

“Good morning, Douglas. You’re early for your shift.”

“As are you. Aren’t you forgetting something, though?” Douglas tapped his head.

Adrian blinked at him for a moment. “My helmet! Yes, thank you.”

“Cannae be letting your guard down on these streets.”

Adrian turned and followed Douglas back down the steps where Jerome, one of the younger Watchmen, waited with his helmet. He retrieved it with a sheepish grin and jammed it onto his head.

“Thanks, Jerome. You both take care today and keep an eye out, Douglas.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Helmet firmly in place Adrian resumed his trek toward Clock Tower Plaza. Already cold, he wasn’t looking forward to the chilly office. Thinking about the cold had him wondering if Garrett had found someplace warm for the day. Basso’s place, most likely. Wherever that was. Adrian hoped Garrett’s new cloak was serving him well. At least he’d have some protection.

Rounding the corner into the deep shadows of Market Street he felt an unmistakable prickle along the back of his neck. Someone was watching. The street was deserted, the other ferry passengers already long out of sight. Pale ribbons of weak sunlight grazed the upper stories of abandoned buildings. Most lay in ruin, little more than heaps of charred and blackened timber slumped against crumbling brick shells, but some were still nearly intact. Jagged glass teeth clung to gaping window frames. Someone might still live in the few buildings that had escaped the fire. Someone, or … something.

His steps slowed as he swung his head back and forth, trying to take in the whole street at once. The deeper shadows between the buildings could hide anything. Eelbiters waiting to ambush him. That horrific creature that had nearly killed Morgan. He still shuddered to think of it. Rumor among the beggars was that they stuck to the sewers, but that … thing had attacked them in the ruins of the Watch Station. If rumor was wrong, who knows where else they might be lurking? The Eelbiters were already threat enough—he didn’t need to be fighting freakish monsters too.

He’d forced himself to walk past the Watch Station even though it set him to shaking every time. They’d survived worse in that dreadful forest and he’d be damned before he let something scare him in his own City.

Screeching behind had him whipping around, a hand going to his sword. Something slapped and scratched at stone. He tensed. Running would be pointless. Another shrill cry and a pair of crows rocketed upward between the buildings. Adrian watched them disappear over the roofline as he took several deep breaths. He let his sword slide back into its sheath but kept a hold of the hilt, not yet willing to let go entirely. One last shuddering breath, and he turned to start back up the street.

Something touched his right elbow. He yelped and spun around, lashing out with his sword. The cloaked figure leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the tip of his blade, and fell in a heap on the cobbles. A stride forward, and Adrian stood over the sprawled figure, sword thrust out to hold them at bay. His sword tip quivered and he forced shaking fingers to loosen their grip.

“Adrian! It’s me.”

Stunned, Adrian stared. The hood of the cloak had fallen back to reveal Garrett’s face, eyes wide, a hand thrown up to shield his head as he shrank back. Blinking rapidly Adrian stumbled back a step, appalled at how close he’d come to hurting Garrett. His sword slipped from numb fingers. Clattered to the ground. They both flinched. Had he hurt Garrett? He seemed okay, trying to untangle himself from the cloak. Kicking the sword to the side Adrian reached down to help Garrett to his feet.

“Gods to graveholes, Garrett!” Adrian grabbed Garrett by the arms and shook him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I thought you saw me.” Garrett hung in his grip, off-balance, feet skidding against the cobbles.

“I could have killed you!” Adrian managed before pulling Garrett into a tight hug. He buried his head into Garrett’s shoulder, unable to stop himself from shaking. Relief and guilt warred with each other, leaving him weak and his stomach aching. If Garrett had been a fraction slower or a hair closer he’d likely be dead. Dead because Adrian was too busy fighting imaginary monsters to watch what was going on about him. It was several moments before he registered the tapping at the side of his helmet.

“Can you put me down now?” Garrett wheezed.

“Yes, right. Sorry.” Adrian gently set him back on his feet. He kept a hold of Garrett’s arm as he peered down at him. His fingers lingered over the chilled skin as he brushed Garrett’s hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Garrett nodded, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “You missed. Again.”

“Good thing too. What are you doing out here anyway? Why aren’t you heading home?” Adrian let go of him but didn’t move away.

“A troubled bridge over dirty water isn’t the best route and I’m not about to risk the ferry.”

“Just how were you planning on getting home?”

Garrett shrugged and pulled the hood of his cloak back up, leaving the leather one crumpled loose behind his neck. “There is a way at night.”

“The illegal ferry I’m not supposed to know about?” Adrian grunted and shook his head. “So why are you out here in broad daylight and not somewhere safe?”

Even buried in the dark shadow of the hood Garrett’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “I have something for you.”

Perplexed, Adrian waited as Garrett reached under his cloak and produced what looked like a ledger. Garrett held it out to him.

“You might find this interesting.”

Adrian took it and flipped through it. “I’m guessing this isn’t all you found.”

Garrett shook his head and started to reach under his cloak again. Adrian held up a hand to stop him.

“Tell you what, why don’t we go home and get this straight to August? Besides, I’d rather be certain you were someplace safe.”

“There are plenty of abandoned apartments.”

“Someplace _warm_ and safe and with actual food. We’ll just take the ferry back across. It won’t have left yet.” Adrian left unspoken the need to keep close to Garrett as long as possible. After what had just happened he wasn’t about to let Garrett beyond arm's reach.

“Under the close eye of the Watch.”

“Er, I doubt anyone would recognize you but maybe we should have a story just in case.” Adrian adjusted Garrett’s hood to better hide his face. “Garrett of Stonemarket needs a reason to be getting escorted across to Auldale.”

“And here I thought the only Watch escort I would ever get would be to the gallows.”

“It’s really too early to be that morbid, Garrett,” Adrian groused as he tucked the ledger into one of his pouches for safekeeping. Even just the thought of such a thing happening had Adrian’s stomach clenching with horror. He’d do anything to make certain that never happened. Which meant he needed to focus now. “Any story we give them has to be believable.”

“I’ll leave that to you.”

Adrian nodded, crouching to retrieve his sword. “Alright. Let’s get going. It’s a good thing I left so early for work today.”

 

Adrian glared at the ferry as it cut through the water, already nearing the middle of the river.

“Dammit, we’ll have to wait.” He ushered Garrett down the steps, gesturing toward the thin curl of smoke rising from a brazier near the base of the dock wall. “We can stay warm down there.”

River spray had dampened the woodpile beside the brazier, and it was several minutes before the flames caught. The acrid stench of burning coal tar had Adrian wondering just where the wood came from. They weren’t scavenging from the ruined houses along Market Street, were they?

No one else was waiting on this side of the river yet for the ferry and he relaxed, no longer worried someone might recognize Garrett. Pulling out the ledger he looked through it again. He recognized a few of the names listed. Had Harlan been making even honest laborers pay him protection money? No wonder so many business owners had closed shop. At these prices there was no way they could stay open and make any profit. At least the bastard was dead now. Maybe he could talk to August about compensating some of them. It might help the guilds be more open to helping with the rebuilding.

“Were there more of these?”

“A whole trunk.”

Adrian let out a low whistle. “He’s been at this a while. Find anything else?”

Garrett pulled his cloak tighter about himself and sidled closer to the brazier as the wind kicked up. “I did. An entire basement double the size of your room, packed full of chests and crates.”

Adrian grinned and laid a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “I knew you’d find it if it was there to find. Did you take anything besides this?”

“I ran across a few other things that might be helpful.”

“And everything went alright? No trouble?”

Garrett shivered under his hand but didn’t pull away or shrug him off. It took a moment before he responded, gaze fixed on the flames licking half-heartedly at the stacked wood. “The … trapdoor was really heavy.”

“Trapdoor?” Adrian shifted closer so he could block the wind for Garrett.

“From what I found, Harlan was planning to build a basement. They unearthed some ruins though and he had a trapdoor installed to seal it off. You have to have a key to open it.”

“I’m guessing you have the key.”

“Of course.”

The smirk sent a rush of heat through Adrian and he caught himself bending down, wanting nothing more than to capture the chapped lips in a kiss. _No_. Not yet. Not until he was certain Garrett wanted it. Instead he draped his arm around Garrett’s shoulders and pulled him close. The heat settled into a glowing warmth as Garrett nestled up against him, slipping an arm around his waist.

“August is going to be thrilled. We’ll finally be able to afford to pay the men a decent wage.”

“That’s good. Maybe they’ll be more alert and provide a decent challenge. Will you be sending out more patrols?”

The comment blunted some of Adrian’s good mood. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you.”

There was a soft noise from Garrett that almost sounded like a chuckle. “I’ll just be happy if they actually have more than a coin or two for me to take.”

“Great. I might as well just give their wages to you and cut out the middlemen.”

A finger jabbed him in the side. “Don’t ruin it. There’s no challenge in that.”

“Where’s the challenge in stealing pens and inkwells from my desk?”

“I didn’t take those.”

Adrian snorted. “Right.”

“I didn’t. They’re only worth about three coins each.”

“So now I’m cheap too? My things aren’t even worth stealing? I don’t know whether to be glad or hurt.” Adrian reached up with his free hand and tapped the end of Garrett’s nose. He turned to look up at Adrian, something in his expression becoming more open and vulnerable. Garrett blinked at him before pushing Adrian’s hand away, though he didn’t let go of it immediately. Then all he could see was the dark fabric of Garrett’s hood. He just barely caught the broken whisper.

“I’ve taken enough from you.”

The soft-spoken words stabbed through Adrian. That hadn’t been what he’d expected. What was Garrett referring to? He had freely given Garrett everything. There wasn’t anything he could think of that Garrett had taken from him. He couldn’t possibly mean the woolen cloak he’d lost? That wouldn’t make any sense, and yet Garrett’s tone and the hunched shoulders were the same. Adrian never had discovered what about that loss had upset Garrett so badly—or had it been Adrian’s fault for thinking he’d fenced it? Had he made the same mistake again?

Adrian shifted around in front of Garrett trying to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look up. After a moment’s hesitation Adrian reached out. A hand under Garrett’s chin tilted his head up. Garrett’s gaze met his only briefly before flickering off to the side, but he didn’t pull away. The raw pain caught in the beautiful eyes stunned Adrian. Had he upset Garrett? Not knowing what to say and knowing any questions would likely remain unanswered, Adrian wrapped his arms around Garrett and drew him close. Garrett took a deep breath, letting his head drop onto Adrian’s chest. Maybe he was misreading the situation. Garrett had to be exhausted from being up all night. He slipped a hand under Garrett’s hood and ran his fingers through the soft dark hair, letting himself just enjoy the quiet moment.

Clanging from the ferry bell had him reluctantly pulling away. A handful of people stood clustered on the deck, waiting to disembark as it inched toward the dock. Thankfully the only Watchmen he saw were those assigned to the ferry. Garrett tensed beside him.

“I’m not sure about this.”

“It will be okay. Trust me. Can you pretend you’re hurt?”

“Yes, but why?”

“Just leave that to me.” Adrian looked Garrett over, noticing for the first time the lack of a quiver over his shoulder. The bow was nowhere in sight either. Good thing. Though he was sure they’d both been missing along with all the rest of Garrett’s equipment when he’d checked the wardrobe earlier. That new strap around Garrett’s middle—was that one of Adrian’s belts? That went a long way toward explaining the hard lump he’d felt through the cloak in the small of Garrett’s back. He pulled the front of the cloak closed to hide Garrett’s leathers. No sense giving anyone cause to wonder what the unique outfit was for.

“Lean against me like you need the support,” Adrian said as he wrapped an arm around Garrett’s shoulders.

Adrian had finally hit upon an idea that would hopefully give Garrett a good cover story for needing to visit August. He’d been in and around Stonemarket enough these last few weeks to know what businesses were still open, and which of the tradesmen had succumbed to the Gloom or the riots. Though naming Garrett as an owner could raise questions. Perhaps an apprentice or assistant now out of work? He knew Garrett was skilled at a variety of things but it needed to be something he felt comfortable with.

“So umm … clock maker or locksmith apprentice?”

“What?”

Adrian glanced down at Garrett then back at the boat. “Which do you know more about?”

“I suppose locksmithing, but—”

“Perfect. We’ll go with that.”

There wasn’t time for any more discussion as Jerome lowered the ramp so the passengers could disembark. Adrian made certain to keep Garrett shielded from view while trying not to be obvious about doing so.

“Everything alright Captain?” Jerome asked as the two of them approached the ferry. Garrett sagged in Adrian’s grip, forcing him to practically carry him up the ramp. He wondered whether Garrett was feigning an injury or reluctant to get on the boat.

“Just taking a friend to see August. The Eelbiters roughed him up a bit.”

“They’re gettin’ to be a real nuisance now that they aren’t staying in South Quarter.” Jerome shook his head and held out a hand. “Passengers are three coin, sir.”

Adrian had to let go of Garrett to reach for his coin pouch. Garrett slumped against him, shuffling his feet. Adrian glanced down at him but there was nothing to see other than the top of his hood. He handed the coins to Jerome with a smile.

“Be glad you’re assigned to the ferry, Jerome.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that,” Jerome said as he pulled the gangplank back onboard. He turned to Adrian. “Eric’s still stuck patrolling Grandmauden.”

“That’s where he’ll stay for the time being. It’s not a bad patrol and he’s got the sniper tower he can stay in.” Adrian helped Garrett over to one of the benches. He unbelted his sword and sat next to Garrett, propping the sword between his knees. “It could be worse. One of you could be on night patrol.”

“Ain’t complaining, Captain, just … we don’t have the money to get him new boots.”

Adrian smiled at Jerome. “Don’t worry about that. I have a feeling he’ll be getting new ones soon enough.”

The wind was much worse out on the water. Garrett shivered next to him and Adrian finally put an arm around him, trying to help him stay warm. The trip itself was short, less than ten minutes, but it felt much longer knowing Garrett was tired and cold, and probably hungry too.

Adrian steadied Garrett as the boat jolted against the dock. So far things were going well. He stood and helped Garrett to his feet, giving him a small reassuring smile. A mischievous glint shimmered in Garrett’s eyes before he ducked his head once more. Then they were off the ferry and headed for the steps. He put a hand on Garrett’s shoulder to stop him. If Garrett was to pretend he was too injured to walk on his own, steps would present a challenge. Easily remedied. He tucked Garrett’s cloak around him and then scooped him up. There was a soft gasp, but Garrett didn’t say anything. Adrian tempered his smile, not wanting to appear too amused when he was supposed to be escorting an injured citizen. He took his time on the stairs and made it safely to street level. A few pedestrians heading down toward the ferry looked strangely at him, but nothing was said.

“I thought I was just getting a Watch escort, not a carriage.”

“No, carriage comes as standard for the elderly and infirm.”

“So are you planning to carry me the whole way?”

“Is that you saying you want down?” They had turned the corner and were out of sight of the ferry. “I suppose it’s safe now.”

Adrian stopped and set Garrett on his feet. It wouldn’t have bothered him in the least to carry Garrett all the way home. Any excuse to hold him close.

“Captain Barbeaux!”

Adrian glanced behind them to see Jerome trotting up the street toward them. He positioned himself between Garrett and Jerome.

“Wait here.”

Garrett nodded and stepped under the awning of the nearest building, fading into the deeper shadows. Adrian retraced his steps to meet Jerome.

“Is everything alright?” The relief had fled, replaced by a growing knot of worry. Had Jerome recognized Garrett? Had he come to confront Adrian about it? Would he have to fight Jerome? He had no desire to hurt the boy.

“Er yes, Captain.” Jerome stopped and peered up at him, the wide brown eyes searching his face. “I just—if your, um … friend over there needs passage home later just let me know. I’ll make sure he’s safe from the Eelbiters.”

Confused, Adrian glanced back to Garrett then at Jerome again. He eased his grip on his sword, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Best not to think about how close he’d come to hurting someone for a second time that morning.

“Okay. I appreciate that but it’s really not necessary.”

Jerome grinned and leaned close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ve got Eric. Not looking to steal your beau.”

“Th-that’s not … what?”

Jerome chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Then again, it’s not like the General would sack _you_ for dallying on your shift.”

It took Adrian a moment to remember to breathe and he ducked his head, his cheeks burning. He patted Jerome’s shoulder, forcing a smile past the guilt.

“I didn’t let you and Eric get sacked, did I? You’re a good man, Jerome. Now get back to your post.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Adrian could no longer hold in the rueful chuckle by the time he returned to Garrett. For Jerome to assume he was taking home a lover had been the last thing he’d ever have expected. He supposed on a certain level it was partly true. The rest was wishful thinking.

“So we’ve gone from injured locksmith apprentice to the Captain’s sweetheart?” The amused tone startled Adrian.

“That part wasn’t my idea.” Adrian smiled as he checked to make sure that Jerome was gone. He did like the way ‘Captain’s sweetheart’ sounded, especially coming from Garrett. He couldn’t let the comment get his hopes up; Garrett meant nothing by it. “We should hurry. I’m going to be late for work again.”

 

Reginald’s bushy eyebrows nearly disappeared under his brown curls when the two of them walked into the house. He set down the stack of papers he’d been carrying and came over to help Adrian out of his coat. “Back so soon, Master Adrian? Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I just need to speak with August.”

“He’s in his office.”

“Perfect. Come on, Garrett. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees this.” Adrian unbuckled his helmet and handed it to Reginald. “Though, I didn’t tell him I was getting your help with this.”

Garrett’s hand hovered protectively over the buckles of his cloak as he fended Reginald off. “Can’t let the General know you’re conspiring with the criminal element.”

“He’s got Basso. How is that different?” Adrian shook his head at Reginald who hovered over Garrett. The butler let out a sigh and went to retrieve the papers he'd set down.

“Basso is an official informant.”

“Right, well, you work for Basso so it’s fine.”

Garrett shot him a look he couldn’t quite read, but said nothing. He stepped in front and opened the door to the study. Adrian followed, trying to puzzle out what the expression meant. Maybe Garrett liked to consider himself more independent? Or had something happened? He knew Garrett and Basso had argued, though he’d only heard fragments through the bathroom door. He’d have to ask later. Lost in thought he nearly ran over Garrett who’d stopped just inside the room.

A young woman in a pretty blue and white dress stood in front of August’s desk. It wasn’t until she turned to greet them that Adrian realized it was Valériane.

“Are you two ever more than an arm’s length from each other?”

“Just as often as you wear something other than black.”

Adrian glanced down at Garrett, surprised by the retort. Valériane laughed. He’d never heard a genuine laugh from her before. It wasn’t a soft twitter like some women, but more of a deep chuckle. The smile softened the hard planes of her face.

“Not often then.”

“I thought you’d already left for work, Adrian.” August leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk as he steepled his fingers.

“I did, but I ran into Garrett on the way.” Adrian pulled the ledger out of his pouch. Stepping around Garrett he offered it to August. “You’re going to want to see this.”

August took the ledger and thumbed slowly through the pages. Adrian shifted his weight, tracing the pattern on the rug with the toe of his boot. This had to work. It had to be enough evidence to warrant a search.

“Well this is certainly interesting. Was there any other evidence?”

Adrian glanced over at Garrett who produced what looked to be a rolled up parchment from under his cloak. He dropped it onto the edge of the desk before sidling away to lean against the radiator. August untied the twine that secured the roll and carefully flattened it out.

“Well now, look at that.” August picked up the loose sheaf of papers and set them to the side, then gently smoothed out the map underneath. “This is very old.”

Valériane planted her hands on the desk and peered down at the map. “Very old indeed. This predates the Northcrest dynasty. In fact I would say this was made during the rule of the Breslings. What are those marks?”

Adrian moved closer so he could see what she was pointing at. “I’m not sure.”

“Can I borrow this? I think I should show this to my Master.” Valériane looked up at Garrett with a thoughtful expression.

“I don’t see why not. It’s not immediately relevant to the investigation.” August carefully rolled the map again. “Was this everything then?”

Garrett pushed away from the radiator as he produced another smaller roll from under his cloak. Rather than coming forward with it, Garrett just stood looking down at it in his hand as he drew in a slow breath. Releasing it with a soft huff he approached the desk and set down the roll in a sharp, almost hasty motion.

“Thank you.” August gave him a soft smile.

Valériane sucked in a breath as August unrolled the painting. “That’s an original Montonessi.”

“Yes it is.” August took the top canvas from the pile and held it under his desk lamp, tilting it to better illuminate the painting. “These were supposed to be kept in the chapel at Northcrest Manor, along with everything else taken in the raid.”

“These were some of his final pieces.” Valériane had retrieved a second painting to examine it more closely. “Such strange subject matter.”

“Just these here are worth a fortune.” August shook his head. “Where did you find all of this, Adrian?”

Adrian shuffled his feet, staring down at the desk. “I might have had some help.”

The chair squeaked as August set the painting down and leaned back. “I don’t think I want to know where this ‘help’ came from.”

Adrian frowned at August, but nodded. “But this is enough evidence, isn’t it?”

“Enough for what?”

Adrian glanced at Garrett. “I … we, that is … Morgan and I think that there may be something to find in Harlan’s townhouse. Is this enough evidence for a warrant?”

“Yes it is. I need you to get back to your office and write your report and round up a squad of your most trusted men. I can arrange clearance for you to search the house by tomorrow morning, or even this afternoon if the magistrate can be persuaded to get some actual work done. In your report I’ll expect you to tell me where in Northcrest Manor you found the paintings and the ledger.”

“But that’s—”

“Ri, Northcrest Manor.” August tilted his head down and peered at Adrian over the rim of his glasses.

Something landed with a thump on top of August’s desk.

“You’ll find that behind the painting in Harlan’s study.”

August picked up the key and handed it to Adrian. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”


	19. Chapter 19

Valériane tucked the rolled map away in her satchel as August collected up the paintings and took them over to the wall safe. Garrett clenched his fingers in his cloak, fighting the urge to snatch them back. He flinched at the metallic _thunk_ as the safe swung shut, forcing himself to stare at his own feet instead of at August’s hands as he spun the dials. Just one Montonessi would have been enough evidence to satisfy August. If only he’d stowed them separately instead of rolled together, he could have handed over only one. They were his, painstakingly gathered and carefully displayed. And there was something else about them; he couldn’t shake the feeling that they represented something important. Something personal. But it wasn’t just his paintings, it was everything. His entire collection. Once again he’d lost everything he owned, and this time he’d given it away.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was helping Adrian. He’d stolen from Erin and nearly got her killed, and he’d lost her for good. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Adrian. Under his cloak, he dropped his hand to brush against the sack hanging from his belt. He had the one thing he needed, the one thing that truly mattered. He’d have to get the Soul to Ector as soon as possible, though he couldn’t get back across the river before dark.

He glanced up at the clock behind August’s desk—approaching eight o’clock. Already a full day gone since he'd last slept, with another still yet to pass before he could rest. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he leaned a hip against the radiator to steady himself as he swayed on his feet. The welcome heat against his leg banished the lingering chill from the ferry and for a moment he allowed himself to relax, wanting nothing more than to crawl under warm blankets.

Garrett shook his head sharply. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, scowling at his glove when it came away stained with black. Sleep was not an option; he couldn’t risk being a hindrance to Adrian. He needed to mend the holes in his cloak before Adrian discovered them and worried over what had happened. Elsie was entirely too diligent with the laundry, and he couldn’t risk her finding them and telling Adrian.

“Garrett?” A hand squeezed his shoulder. He glanced up to find Adrian watching him with a puzzled expression.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

Garrett shook his head. He hadn’t even realized anyone was talking. The buzzing in his head made it difficult to concentrate.

“Never mind, then.” Adrian offered him a faint smile. “I’m headed back out. You get some rest, and please eat something.”

A gentle hand pushed his hood back as Adrian bent over him, pressing warm lips to his forehead. A swarm of tingles swept down the back of his neck and he closed his eyes, only to force them back open as another surge of tiredness washed over him.

“Sir, yes sir,” he mumbled. Fingers ruffled through his hair as he savored Adrian’s rumbling laugh.

The office felt much larger and emptier without Adrian’s presence filling the space. Garrett glanced over at August and Valériane. Neither of them seemed to notice he was still in the room. Leaving them to their conversation he slipped out into the hall, easing the door shut behind himself. He had things he needed to do.

After checking to make certain Elsie was busy in the kitchen Garrett searched the laundry room for her sewing kit, eventually spotting it on the shelf above the sink. The adjacent countertop was stacked high with clean linens and it proved trickier than he’d anticipated to climb over the pile without knocking everything into the soapy water, or overbalancing and falling in himself.

Outstretched fingertips brushed against the wood case, still too far to get a decent grip. Garrett leaned out further over the sink and this time snagged the near corner, jerking it toward himself. The case tumbled forward off the shelf, splashing him with soap bubbles as it vanished under the surface. He fished the sewing kit out of the sink and shook off the worst of the water. At the sound of approaching footsteps he fled the laundry room. Elsie’s shadow emerged from the kitchen as the door to the front hallway clicked shut behind him.

Safely upstairs in Adrian’s bedroom Garrett unbuckled his cloak and laid it out on the bed next to the sewing kit. He grimaced at the sight of the damage. One hole was small and would be easily mended, but tearing himself free with the bolt still embedded had opened a jagged rip from the other. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so reckless on a job. From the moment he’d entered Harlan’s townhouse it had been one mistake after another.

He untied the sack from his belt and pulled out the Soul. It had survived unharmed, and bathed his hands in soft blue light as he turned it over. The gentle glow reminded him a little of how his surroundings lit up blue whenever he used the Primal to focus. Returning the Soul to its sack, he buried it under the pile of spare blankets in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. It should be safe enough there until he could make it back across the river.

After shedding his leathers for a clean shirt and trousers he felt brighter, the feel of fresh clothes somehow helping to clear his head. He started to sit on the bed but thought better of it as he felt himself waver. The urge to lie down for just a moment nearly won out, and he levered himself back to his aching feet. Upending the sewing kit onto the blanket he picked through its contents for what he needed. The needle had a faint tremble to it and took several attempts to thread, despite his opting for the darning needle with the largest eye.

He could see now he’d pushed himself too hard. He’d accused Erin of not being ready, yet apparently he couldn’t see it in himself. If he’d been caught or killed he knew Adrian would have blamed himself. The Blackbrook mercenaries guarding the house would have been all too happy to drag his worthless carcass to Stonemarket and drop it at Adrian’s feet to demand the bounty for him. He wouldn’t do Adrian any good dead.

_Please don’t ever do that to me again. I can’t lose you. Do you understand?_

He flinched as the needle pierced his finger. He needed to stop dwelling on it. Yes, he’d made mistakes and gone on a job when he wasn’t fully ready. But he’d made it home with the loot. That was enough. He had the Soul. It had been worth it just to see Adrian’s smile at the prospect of reforming the Watch. He’d missed that easy sweet smile, and the deep laugh. Having felt Adrian’s fear and apprehension as he’d walked down Market Street made Garrett wonder if he endured that often. He didn’t think Adrian was scared of the Eelbiters; Adrian was more than capable enough of dealing with them. So what had him startling at a pair of crows? He might have to ask at some point.

After a third time jabbing his finger with the needle Garrett dropped his cloak back onto the bed. A cold bath might help wake him up a bit. He still had kohl smeared across his hands from rubbing his eyes. Across his face as well, most likely. He’d feel better once he was clean.

By the time he left the bathroom, shivering and bundled up in Adrian's bathrobe, Elsie had been in and left a breakfast tray on the low table by the fireplace. His cloak and the contents of the sewing kit lay undisturbed on the bed where he'd abandoned them. It was probably too much to hope that she'd not noticed. Hopefully she wouldn’t say anything to Adrian. He’d have to wait to eat until after he’d repaired his cloak. Elsie might return at any time to make up the bed or retrieve yesterday’s clothes that Adrian had left in a heap on the bathroom floor.

The thick heavy wool hid the worst of the stitches once he was finished. A good thing—he’d not done such a poor job of mending in years. The thread had twisted and knotted in his hands, catching and pulling unevenly at the fabric. He ought to unpick everything and start again, but he doubted that it would result in much improvement until his hands stopped shaking. It would have to do for now. He hung the cloak at the back of the wardrobe where the shadows were deepest, and with luck Elsie wouldn’t even notice the drying mudstains. The clock over the bookcase showed it was nearly half nine. Time was limping worse than a lame burrick.

The porridge had cooled but was still good. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He left the tea untouched; lukewarm tea held no appeal, and he wasn’t sure where the warming kettle had disappeared to.

After breakfast he paced the room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard near the end of the bed. The thick rug was a welcome relief to bare feet after the hard cobblestone streets. There had to be something he could do to pass the time until Adrian returned home. Usually he would read, but he feared sitting down would lead to dozing off. With the dull buzzing in his head he couldn’t focus on anything for long enough, anyway. Reading was out of the question.

His harness did need refitting. It hadn’t done him much good last night. As loose as it was now, he wouldn’t have been able to rely on it catching him if he’d fallen. He’d need to find something to punch the new holes in the leather. Only a handful of his tools had escaped undamaged by the raid, and those were still up in the clock tower. Out of his reach. A good sharp knife would have to do for now.

After getting dressed Garrett headed downstairs to see if he could find something suitable. The kitchen was deserted. Elsie must have finished clearing up after breakfast and moved on to chores elsewhere in the house. Going through the drawers he found a carving knife, pristine and clearly new, still in its original sheath. It was a little large and unwieldy for tooling leather, but was the only one sharp enough for what he needed. He’d just have to return it before Elsie realized it was missing.

There wasn’t a good surface in Adrian’s room to work on, except the floor. At least once he’d drawn back all the curtains there was plenty of light. Garrett pulled on his harness and tightened the laces as far as they’d go to check how much slack he needed to take out. Without anything he could use to mark the leather he’d be forced to judge the positions of the new holes by eye, but it didn’t matter. As long as his equipment served him well, it didn’t have to be pretty. No-one ever saw him.

Except Adrian. Adrian had seen him, and it had changed everything. He had lost everything. His collection. His tools. Maybe even Basso—the one thing he couldn’t steal. Garrett swallowed, trying to force back the sudden lump in his throat. It didn’t matter. He’d find a way to earn back Basso’s trust. Eventually.

He tugged at the harness until it closed snugly around him. A chill ran through him at the sight of just how far the edges overlapped. No wonder tightening the laces had been nowhere close to enough. He knew he’d lost weight on their expedition. Adrian had told him as much, and it was hard to deny feeling his own ribs under his fingertips. But could he really have lost quite that much? Maybe Adrian wasn’t overreacting.

After taking note of where the harness needed adjusting he pulled out all the laces and laid the pieces out on the floor under the window. It might not hurt to make himself a new harness fairly soon. This one was starting to show wear in places that weren’t easily fixed, and punching new holes in the leather would only weaken it.

He glanced over at where he’d laid the old belt of Adrian’s he’d used to carry the bow and quiver under his new cloak. Not enough leather. He was going to need eyelets too. It would have to wait until he had a chance to visit a leather shop. The carving knife was sharp enough to cut through even the reinforced sections, but it was difficult to keep the new holes uniform. Last hole done he picked up the harness and realized he’d carved a series of divots into the floorboards. Definitely a good idea to do this on the floor and not on Adrian’s desk.

Lacing the harness quickly revealed that eyelets would be a must before he tried to do another job. The leather was too worn and would rip if he put any tension through the new holes. He should never have gone on a job without checking all his equipment. He knew this. It was a lesson he’d learned very early on, before he’d even started working for Basso. So why had he been so complacent?

No, that hadn’t been it. He’d been overeager. Excited, even. It had been so long since he’d felt needed for his actual skill set. Not only that but the prospect of restoring Adrian’s eye, returning what Garrett had taken from him, had led him to rush his normal preparation. Adrian’s comment on the dock this morning had been an innocent joke. It should have been harmless, but it had cut him to the quick.

Even the way Adrian had looked at him after—the tender concern that had flooded the Primal, the warm hug and the gentle fingers through his hair. None of it was deserved. He’d never done anything to deserve Adrian’s attention. Yet he couldn’t imagine his life without Adrian anymore.

“Is everything okay, Master Garrett?”

Garrett scrambled to his feet, the harness and knife clutched in his hands.

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Elsie took a step back. “I thought you heard me knock.”

She’d knocked? Had he been so lost in thought he’d not even heard her? He’d not heard Adrian earlier either.

“I just wanted to gather up the dishes if you were finished.”

Garrett nodded and stepped to the side out of the way. Elsie picked up the tray then turned to look at him.

“I will need that knife back so I can make dinner.”

Garrett glanced down at it, then stepped forward and placed it on the tray. Elsie smiled at him.

“Can I get you anything? Something for elevenses? I have some raisin bread I can bring up. And perhaps some coffee?”

“Coffee.”

“Alright, I’ll bring it up as soon as it’s ready.”

Once she’d left Garrett gathered up the things he’d left lying out and put them away. He tucked the sewing kit under the bedcovers to hide it. He’d have to wait until he was certain she was busy elsewhere in the house before he could return it to the laundry room unnoticed. By the time he’d finished, Elsie was back with fresh coffee. She set the tray on the table by the fireplace and poured him a cup.

“It’s so wonderful to have proper coffee once again.” She handed him the cup, a thoughtful frown pulling at the usually cheerful face. “It was nice to see Master Adrian smiling this morning. He didn’t sleep much last night. Still pacing around when I got up this morning. Doesn’t surprise me he left for work early.”

Unsure how to reply, Garrett took a sip of the coffee, nearly scalding his tongue in the process. He hoped he wasn’t the reason Adrian hadn’t been able to sleep. Adrian’s job was too dangerous for him to go to work with minimal sleep.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get for you?” Elsie peered at him, the light blue eyes entirely too perceptive. When he didn’t reply she let out a short sigh and clasped her hands together. “Well, if you change your mind just ring the bell. I’ll have lunch ready for you at two. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“Anything is better than sloop.”

Elsie laughed. “Ain’t that the truth! I’ll never complain again about smelling the animals down at the market. Butcherin’ a pig don’t seem so bad when you’ve had nothing but sloop or ravens to eat.”

“I didn’t think things got that bad here in Auldale.”

Elsie shook her head. “Maybe not for the hoity-toity types, as Mister Basso calls them. But everyone felt the effects. And then when the riots started … I wasn’t sure if we were gonna make it. Is it bad that I’m happy they were only really after the Baron and torched his place? It’s not like he had family to worry about.”

The image of Orion’s warped corpse laying on the deck of the _Dawn’s Light_ came to mind. The Baron had forsaken any family he’d had in favor of chasing the Primal. So had Orion. He’d nearly lost Erin to it as well. So far the Primal had done nothing but cause pain and destruction.

No, that wasn’t quite right. The _misuse_ of the Primal had. He’d used it to heal, to free a trapped being, to keep people safe and even save lives. It was a tool. Nothing more.

“The Baron put too much faith in something he didn’t understand and couldn’t control. He put his pride before caring for the City. He claimed it was for progress, but it was only to prove to himself he wasn’t his father. He thought he could continue his grandfather’s work and somehow restore the family’s honor. Instead he nearly destroyed the City. In some ways he was more of a thief than I am.”

Elsie stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding. “I ain’t never heard you say so much all at once. I had no idea you knew him.”

Garrett frowned and looked down at the coffee in his hand. “Not exactly. I only spoke to him the once, but I was probably one of the last people to see him alive.”

“Master Adrian said when they finally got to Northcrest Manor the first thing they found was the Baron’s head on a pike at the front gate. They’d also smashed the head off that statue in front of the house. His body were swinging from it.”

“The Graven would never have become so dangerous if people didn’t hate the Baron so much. Orion knew how to sway them, incite them to violence. He was just as guilty as the Baron for what happened.”

Elsie sighed. Picking up the coffee pot she refilled Garrett’s cup. “It’s so sad. So many people died, and all for greed. Things don’t seem any better now, though. All the nobles do is fight over who’s in charge while the City falls apart ‘round our ears. If it weren’t for what Master August’s doing with the Watch … it don’t bear thinking about.”

“Adrian is adamant about restoring the Watch.”

“That he is. Master August will gladly step aside and let him be General once he’s ready. He’ll be a good General.”

“He’s a good Captain.”

Elsie giggled. “That’s a bit funny coming from the Master Thief himself.”

“Mister Thief is fine, but he is. He cares about the people under him.”

Elsie’s smile grew softer and she put a hand on his arm. “He cares more about you.”

The moment stretched out, Garrett uncertain how to reply. Elsie patted his arm. “I better get to my chores. Ring the bell if you need me, or want fresh coffee. There’s raisin bread out on the kitchen table in case you’ll be helping yourself.”

After she left, Garrett finished the cup of coffee as he tried to decide what to do next. He needed to be up and moving around if he wanted to stay awake. If Adrian’s pacing had worried Elsie, he didn’t want her noticing him do the same. There was too much risk she might tell Adrian. He couldn’t go outside in broad daylight, but Elsie’s chores took her all over the house and he’d already failed once to hear her coming. The only safe place might be the attic. Elsie wouldn’t disturb him up there.

The attic was warm and dusty, stretching the full length of the house. A few boxes and a couple of trunks were stacked against the sides, leaving the space largely empty save for the twin rows of stout timbers supporting the rafters above. Dim grey light filtered through cobwebbed dormer windows along the rear of the house, casting a lacework of shadows across grimy floorboards. Dust lay thick across the floor, undisturbed by the passage of feet. He’d be safe from Elsie; it was clear she rarely ventured here, if at all. He’d just have to remember to come down for lunch before she thought to look for him.

Garrett walked the length of the attic and back again, careful to step over the raised trusses linking each pair of posts. Up here the floorboards didn’t creak like the ones in Adrian’s room. No one came up here to wear the nails loose.

The echo of Elsie’s words followed him as he paced. _He cares more about you_. Seeing Adrian with him on the ferry earlier, Jerome had made the same assumption. He knew—had known for months now—how Adrian felt about him. Adrian hadn’t minced words. He’d done more than say it, he’d shown himself willing to die … over and over.

Garrett stumbled to a halt as he studied the scars along the backs of his hands, a match to those running the length of each palm. From the moment they’d met, Adrian had proved willing to die for him. If Adrian had been caught helping him escape the Thief-Taker that first night, his Captain’s rank and family connection wouldn’t have saved him from Harlan’s fury. Adrian would have died with him. He hadn’t understood why—he still didn’t. Maybe he never would. Maybe he didn’t need to.

He’d clearly felt Adrian’s surge of hope at his teasing, and how it had been just as quickly shut away. Why did Adrian feel the need to be so guarded? Was Garrett doing something wrong? Granted, their friendship was different than his friendship with Basso. He trusted Basso with his life and would do most anything for him. It was the same with Adrian, but it was different too. Just not in a way he could place.

“Captain’s sweetheart.”

Saying it aloud offered no further insight into Adrian’s reaction. He rubbed his fingers over his forehead and forced himself to start walking again. He was too tired to puzzle this all out right now. Though the memory of Adrian’s smile as he’d carried Garrett up the steps left him unsteady, the flutters returning with a vengeance. That, or he was dizzy. It was difficult to tell the difference at the moment.

His foot caught the raised truss and sent him sprawling. Hip and shoulder slammed into the floor. Rolling over onto his back he lay still for a moment, blinking dust out of his eyes as he waited for the floor to settle and his vision to stop swimming. His ankle ached where the far edge of the truss had clipped him as he fell. Just a bruise—nothing serious.

He dragged himself to his feet and rubbed at his shoulder. Brushing the dust off his shirt he resumed pacing, bracing himself with a hand against each post in turn as he stepped over the trusses. Maybe he should think of something less distracting. He didn’t need to accidentally hurt himself just because he wasn’t watching where he was going. If pain leaked through the Primal it would upset Adrian worse than any second-hand nightmare.

How long had it been? He felt as if he’d been walking forever. His feet were sore and his head was spinning and his eyes were watering and gritty and the buzzing in his head wouldn’t stop and everything ached and he just needed to lie down. Just for one moment. Just until it all stopped hurting.

He couldn’t risk it.

The second time it happened he stared blankly up at the rafters trying to figure out how he’d ended up on the floor again. Had he really thought he could walk with his eyes closed? That wasn’t going to help anything. Sleeping standing up was still sleeping. And sleeping meant nightmares.

A clock somewhere below chimed the quarter hour as he neared the attic stairs for what seemed the thousandth time. He’d lost track of how long it had been. The dim unchanging light from the windows offered no clues. Had he already missed Elsie? Maybe he should check the time.

Just looking down the narrow staircase had a wave of dizziness sweeping through him. He trailed one hand along the wall as he eased his way down one stair at a time, half-convinced with every step he would lose his footing and fall.

Pushing open the bedroom door left behind a semicircle of grey smudges clearly visible against the glossy white. Confused, Garrett squinted down at his hands. Fingers and palms were engrained with dirt. Looking behind him he cringed at the trail of dusty footprints across the rug. Not a chance Elsie would miss those. He wasn’t sure how he was going to hide the evidence; Elsie might be due any minute. He needed to clean himself first. It wouldn’t do him any good to get rid of the footprints whilst still leaving dirty tracks.

The prospect of another freezing bath wasn’t pleasant, but it would help keep him awake. The tiles were cold against his feet and he shivered as he set the water running and reluctantly undressed. He tossed his clothes in the general direction of the chair in the corner. No point in folding them neatly—he’d need them again immediately afterward. He sucked in a breath as he stepped into the tub, cold water biting at his ankles. Steeling himself, he sat down and huddled in the water, clenching his teeth as they chattered.

It was several minutes before he could force himself to uncurl enough to wash. Not everything. This was worse than the river. He shuddered at the thought of dunking his head, or even just lying down in the water. Hands and feet only—enough to avoid tracking dirt through the house. It was bad enough already that Elsie had to feed and clothe him. He shouldn’t force her to clean up his mess as well.

His hands were shaking bad enough that he nearly dropped Adrian’s soap over the side of the tub as he reached for it. The lemony scent perfumed the air as he washed his feet, the water turning opaque around him. He smiled to himself, remembering the very first time he'd encountered Adrian. He'd been so distracted by how good Adrian smelled that he’d failed to fight back. A dull ache settled in his chest. He should have fought harder. If he’d gotten away before Adrian captured him, then Adrian would never have had to suffer the consequences of Garrett’s mistakes. How had Amaury put it? _Nearly a hundred good men dead, and our brother maimed for life, all because he's smitten with some filthy little guttershite_.

Numb fingers fumbled the soap as he tried to put it away. He lunged for it as it skidded off the far side of the soapdish and onto the floor, but succeeded only in sending a wave of cold water over the rim of the tub after it.

Garrett let out a deep sigh, dropping his head into his hands. Today would be over soon. Adrian was due home by six, and he could finally get some sleep. He didn't want to admit to himself how much he looked forward to Adrian's return. It had been—was going to _be_ —a long day. He wasn’t entirely sure how long. In his haste to bathe he’d forgotten to check the clock before climbing into the bath. But Elsie hadn’t yet been in—there had to be hours left to wait, and he wasn’t certain he’d be able to hold out for much longer. Even the icy water wasn’t helping as much as it should have.

He didn’t regret a moment of it. Just seeing Adrian smile was worth everything. He’d been nothing but a burden for months, but Adrian hadn’t complained even once about being forced to take care of him. Finally, he’d done something right. For all his mistakes he’d pulled off the job. He’d found the evidence Adrian needed, and retrieved the Soul for Ector. Adrian would get his new eye and a new Watch.

“A new eye for the Watch Captain.” He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the snort threatening to escape. “A new Watch for the eye Captain. Eye Captain. Aye.”

He rested his cheek on his knees and wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to conserve what little body heat he had left as he fought the smirk tugging at his lips. It didn’t stop the random chuckles. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”

Cold water sloshed around him as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Nothing seemed to make any difference. “I, Captain. No, he’s the Captain; I’m the thief. Took an eye, took a soul, took a heart. Captain’s sweetheart.”

A laugh slipped free. Then another. He couldn't stop himself, the laughter somehow both relieving the tension and making it worse. He dragged himself upright and clung to the side of the tub as he shook. It didn't let up. His lungs started to burn. Had he finally gone crazy? Sitting in a tub of freezing cold water and laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks was hardly sane. He wiped his face and fought to get himself under control, gulping for air as he tried to swallow back the giggles still bubbling up in his throat.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Master Garrett? Are you alright?”

Garrett cringed. He must sound delirious if Elsie felt the need to check on him. It took a couple of deep breaths before he could force the words out without choking on them. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Your lunch is on the table when you’re ready.”

Stiff and shaking limbs refused to cooperate and he nearly fell headfirst onto the floor as he slithered over the rim of the tub. Rather than risk falling he stayed on the floor, bracing himself against the tub as he waited for his legs to work.

Adrian’s bathrobe hung on its hook beside the door. Garrett stared dully at it as he tried to force his sluggish thoughts to connect. Wasn’t that … hadn’t he left that lying on the bed? Once he’d struggled to his feet he managed to wrestle his way into the bathrobe, though it took several minutes to force numb fingers through tying the belt.

The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat greeted him as he emerged from the bathroom. Elsie had left the tray on the table for him. He ate with his fingers while pacing from the fireplace to the door and back again, fearing that if he sat, or even stood still for too long, he would fall asleep on his feet. Once he’d finished he replaced the plate on the low table by the fireplace. Dizziness washed over him as he straightened, leaving him clutching at the back of the nearest chair as his knees threatened to buckle.

Back to the attic. Before he passed out on the floor for Elsie to find.


	20. Chapter 20

Adrian stomped up the steps to the front door, muttering curses under his breath. It had been a close thing, but he’d had his report ready when August showed up at the Watch Council Office at noon. He’d spent nearly the whole morning drafting it, tossing out several versions in the process before he finally had something that he hoped would satisfy the magistrate.

There’d been no further sign of August all afternoon, and Adrian still didn’t have his warrant. Either August had gone straight home without having the sense to drop it off on his way, or the magistrate was as lazy and pigheaded as rumor suggested. The afternoon had been an utter waste, spent wading through requisitions and listening to his squad gossip as they drank all his tea. They'd been only too happy to spend their afternoon indoors instead of on patrol. Of the seven of them, Jerome, Eric and Douglas were the only ones he knew personally. Morgan had recommended the others.

It still made him a bit queasy to know he’d outright lied in his report. He’d been careful to collect up all his abandoned drafts and tuck them away in his pouch, safe from curious eyes. The nearest fireplace would be the best place for them. If anyone learned that he’d lied then not only would they never get the warrant to search Harlan’s house, but it could cause trouble for himself and August.

He just hoped that Harlan’s old office was still as he remembered it, otherwise someone was bound to realise that he couldn’t have found the ledger tucked into the back of a bookcase that might no longer exist. With August now the General of the Watch, Adrian hadn’t had call to head up to Northcrest Manor since he’d returned to the City. Technically the office belonged to August now, but Adrian wasn’t entirely sure his brother had even set foot in the room. August much preferred to run the Watch from his own office at home, where he could still run his physician’s practice as time allowed.

Reginald met him at the door to take his helmet and sword. “Good evening, Master Adrian. Dinner is ready.”

“Is Garrett around?”

“I've not seen him, sir.” Reginald helped Adrian out of the heavy coat. “He might still be upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Adrian started for the stairs, taking them two at a time. It was no surprise to hear Garrett was still asleep. After staying up all night to search Harlan’s house he had to have been exhausted. Adrian hadn’t missed how once they’d gotten home Garrett had seemed fit to drop where he stood.

He opened the door to his room gingerly, not wanting to disturb Garrett. The bed was empty. It didn't even look slept in. Everything was just the way it normally would be after Elsie made the bed, the blanket smoothed out with the top corner folded back, and the pillows neatly arranged.

“Garrett … are you here?”

No response. Where was he? Not the bathroom, though it looked as though Garrett had taken a bath at some point, his clothes strewn sopping wet across the floor beside the chair and the tub still full of murky water. That wasn’t like him. Garrett was usually careful to leave everything the way he’d found it.

A tea tray sat next to an empty plate on the table by the fireplace. At least it looked like Garrett had eaten. His leathers and equipment were stowed neatly in the wardrobe, so Garrett had to still be in the house somewhere. But where was he? Maybe downstairs in the library, or with August. Reginald hadn’t seen him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. No one ever saw Garrett unless he wanted them to.

The library was empty. So was August’s office. And his workroom.

“August!” Adrian bellowed as he started back down the hall. “August, have you seen Garrett?”

“Master Adrian,” Elsie appeared from the dining room, hands on hips, “there is no need to shout. Master August is still at the magistrate’s office. Master Garrett is in the attic.”

“The attic? Whatever for?”

Elsie shrugged. “He’s been up there most of the day. Only came down for food.”

Puzzled, Adrian thanked her and headed up to see if he could find Garrett.

The attic was dark and airless, though surprisingly cold. Dust eddied across the floor in front of him, stirred up by drafts from somewhere unseen. Adrian rubbed the back of his hand against his nose as he fought the urge to sneeze. The few times he’d been up here before, rising warmth from the house made everything uncomfortably hot no matter the season, but now his breath fogged before him as he fumbled for the light switch.

Bare bulbs flickered into life. A hiss. Movement to his right caught his eye. At the far end of the attic Garrett stood near one of the windows overlooking the rear yard. He wore Adrian’s bathrobe, one hand gripping the sill white-knuckled and the other thrown up to shield his eyes. Adrian smacked the switch again and the light fizzled out.

“What are you doing up here, Garrett?” Adrian stepped gingerly over the raised trusses, stooped low to avoid the sloping rafters.

“Admiring the view?”

Adrian chuckled as he reached Garrett’s side. He ducked his head to look out, the dormer too low for him to get close to the window. Already full dark. Warm flickering lights amid the Auldale rooftops sloped gently down the hillside toward the sea, mirroring the cool stars above. The sight was so familiar to him that he no longer even saw it. “Why don’t you come down and eat dinner with me?”

Garrett nodded, a slow, careful movement that seemed to cost more effort than it should have done. He pushed away from the sill and stumbled to the side as he turned toward Adrian.

Adrian shot out a hand to steady Garrett. “You alright?”

“The robe is a bit long.”

“For you, yes.” Ankle length on Adrian, the bathrobe all but engulfed Garrett. The hem dragged along the floor, and even rolled up the sleeves fell past his hands. Adrian’s smile faded. “Why is the window open? You’re shivering.”

Bent over to avoid smacking his head into the rafters, Adrian stepped around Garrett to pull the window shut. Once the catch was secure he ushered Garrett toward the stairs. “I’ll go first. Don’t want you tripping on that robe and falling.”

Once at the bottom, he turned back to look for Garrett. The trailing bathrobe caught along the dusty stairs, pulling the front open. Each cautious step revealed more—long toes, shadowed with dust, slender elegant feet, and narrow ankles. Dark smudges on the pale legs drew Adrian’s gaze up even as his fingers twitched with the need to brush the dirt away. Garrett braced a hand against each wall, face pinched and brows drawn together as he stared down at his feet. Another shaky step, more of a controlled plummet, and the robe hung completely open.

Adrian blinked and glanced away, his face uncomfortably warm. Here he was gawking at Garrett when it was obvious he was having trouble. Eyes averted, he met Garrett halfway down and took hold of his waist, mindful to avoid laying hands on anything other than the bathrobe. Garrett clung to him as Adrian helped him the rest of the way down the steep flight of stairs. Once they reached the bottom Adrian pried Garrett’s hands loose. He pulled the bathrobe closed and retied the belt.

“You sure you’re okay? You seem a bit unsteady.”

Garrett nodded but didn’t say anything, his unfocused gaze wandering across the floor rather than look up. That didn’t answer the question. Adrian wasn’t sure if Garrett meant he was okay, or was agreeing he was unsteady. Adrian dismissed the voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Basso telling him what a miserable lecher he was. There was nothing wrong with finding Garrett attractive and he’d make certain to figure out what—if anything—was wrong.

“I think a bath might be in order before dinner. Have you been rolling around on the floor?” Adrian combed his fingers through Garrett’s hair to dislodge the cobwebs.

“Something like that.”

Adrian frowned at the weary sounding murmur. A spark of worry lit in his chest. With a gentle grip on Garrett’s shoulder he turned him in the direction of the bedroom.

“Come on. You’ll feel better after a bath.”

Garrett nodded, but made no attempt to move.

“Garrett?” Adrian kept his tone light, trying not to let the worry seep into his voice. When Garrett didn’t respond Adrian wrapped an arm around him, allowing himself to enjoy the warm rush as Garrett all but melted against his side. He took the opportunity to pull Garrett across the hallway and into his bedroom.

Several minutes of coaxing later Garrett still hadn’t taken a step toward the bathroom. Despite the barely perceptible nod each time Adrian tried to prompt Garrett into moving, he wasn’t entirely sure Garrett heard a word of it. His head was still down, almost as if too heavy to lift, gaze fixed on some indeterminate spot in the middle distance.

Adrian finally went to run the bath himself. The water abandoned in the tub was stone cold; Garrett must have finished with it hours ago. Strange that Elsie hadn’t been in to empty the tub or mop up all the puddles across the floor. He spread out a couple of spare towels to soak up the worst of the mess. Once the hot water was running, he went to retrieve Garrett who still stood just inside the bedroom doorway, staring off into space.

When all attempts failed to convince Garrett to undress and climb into the tub on his own, Adrian reached for the bathrobe. “Do you want my help?”

Something flickered across Garrett’s face, gone again too quickly for Adrian to read.

Out of the robe Garrett was even filthier than Adrian had thought. When Garrett made no move toward the tub, Adrian picked him up and lifted him in.

“At least you’re not fighting me like at the river,” he muttered as he pulled out a fresh washcloth from the cabinet on the end wall. Where had the soap vanished to? Adrian cast around for it, eventually spotting it lying in a puddle half under the tub. “Though if Basso gets wind of this he’s going to do more than throw insults.”

“He’s too out of shape to throw anything else.”

Adrian forced a laugh, but instead of saying anything else he focused on lathering the soap into Garrett’s hair. He’d sworn August and Aldric to secrecy over Basso’s reaction to seeing Garrett when the _Shadow Eater_ first docked, and he certainly wasn’t about to tell Garrett now. Garrett let out a slow breath and dropped his head forward, though Adrian wasn’t sure whether Garrett was offering him easier access, or trying to hide. Neither of them spoke, other than the soft hiss from Garrett each time the soapy rinsewater got in his eyes.

As soon as Adrian released his head Garrett slumped sideways in the water and leaned against the side of the tub. Adrian deliberately did not allow himself to dwell on how this was all too familiar. It brought back too many memories from the trip home. After two weeks seasick and unable to keep anything down, Garrett had been too weak to even raise his head. He’d been forced to rely on Adrian for everything.

The water soon turned a murky grey as Adrian scrubbed the dirt loose. Garrett lay curled against the side of the tub, head resting on the rim and hands slack in the water, no longer responding to anything Adrian did. Even when Adrian had to pull him upright to reach around him Garrett didn’t react, eyes closed and head lolling against Adrian’s shoulder. Either Garrett was enjoying being pampered, or the worry now eating away at Adrian was justified.

The grime came away to reveal darkening bruises along hips and arms, with more down by his ankle. Had he fallen? Adrian had felt nothing through the Primal all day, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Garrett clearly felt everything of Adrian’s, but only the strongest impressions filtered through in the other direction. A stab of guilt shot through him. On their way home Garrett had fallen from dodging Adrian’s sword—was this his fault? Garrett hadn’t seemed hurt at the time, but it was hard not to worry when “I’m fine” was all he’d ever answer. The bruises seemed too fresh, though. Had something happened since?

“Garrett?” Adrian crouched down beside the tub.

At first he wasn’t sure if Garrett would respond, but after a moment the beautiful eyes opened. Adrian smoothed Garrett’s hair back, unable to hold back the smile as Garrett leaned into the touch.

“You ready to get out?”

Garrett blinked at him. “I just got in.”

“If I let you stay any longer dinner will be cold. If it isn’t already. Let me help you.”

Hoisting Garrett to his feet Adrian steadied him as he stepped out of the tub. He just stood there dripping on the floor, so Adrian wrapped him in a towel. Guiding him over to the chair in the corner, Adrian had him sit while he quickly dried him off, making certain to go lightly over the bruises.

The bathrobe was every bit as filthy as Garrett had been and out of the question, and, after helping Garrett with the bath, his own clothes were soaked through. Adrian fetched clean clothes for them both from the wardrobe. Someday, Garrett willing, he’d like to do this for him without it being because Garrett was too sick or weak to do it himself. He deliberately shut the thought away as he slipped the shirt over Garrett’s head and helped him with the sleeves.

“Why don’t I have Elsie bring dinner up for us? You look dead on your feet.”

Garrett blinked several times and shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Adrian peered down at him but Garrett’s gaze was firmly fixed on the floor. “You’re sure? It’s been a while since I’ve had to help you like that.”

“Yes, I … I didn’t expect to be quite so sore after going out.”

“You did have a couple of bruises. You should have said something. A longer soak in a warm tub will help.” The knot of worry didn’t quite dissipate, but it did lessen. That would explain a lot but he wasn’t going to let Garrett overtax himself. He shoved away the niggling thought that soreness went nowhere near to explaining everything, or how Garrett had got so dirty. It was a relief to have Garrett admit to anything at all—he wasn’t about to interrogate him, or demand more from him.

“I’m fine now. We can go down to dinner.”

He smiled and laid a gentle hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “Alright, if that is what you want.”

Adrian hovered nearby, painfully aware of how tightly Garrett hung onto the banister as they made their way downstairs. He tried not to be too obvious about it. Garrett wouldn’t have insisted on coming down for dinner if he didn’t feel up to it. The distant, unfocused look from earlier had been replaced by a determined grimace that faded abruptly each time Garrett caught him watching. He could already hear August’s lecture over not smothering Garrett.

Elsie emerged from the back hallway as they reached the dining room. “Will you be wanting dinner now, Master Adrian?”

“Yes. Sorry for making you wait.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” She offered him a smile. “Master August arrived home only a few minutes ago, anyway. Everything’s kept warm, and I’ll have it with you in just a moment.”

Adrian didn’t need to see Garrett on his blind side to know that he was fiddling with the cutlery again. The quiet clinks fell into rhythm with the resonant ticking from the grandfather clock out in the hallway. A deep sigh from the doorway announced August’s arrival. Letting out a weary groan he sank into his usual chair opposite Adrian. Elsie appeared a few moments later with their food and dished up the roasted mutton and potatoes.

“Did you meet with the magistrate?” Adrian had waited more or less patiently all afternoon for news. He couldn’t sit and wait any longer.

August scowled at him and finished chewing his mouthful of roast potato before answering. “Can I at least eat dinner before you interrogate me?”

“I just want to know.”

“Yes. I spent most of the afternoon with him.”

“What did he say? Is he going to allow the search? When can—”

He broke off at the loud clatter of metal on porcelain. Startled, Adrian looked round to find Garrett staring down at his fork where he’d dropped it onto the rim of his plate. Adrian frowned. Was the low light from the gaslamp misleading him, or had Garrett gone chalk-white?

“Garrett? Are you alright?”

Garrett nodded slowly. His gaze drifted from Adrian to August before dropping back to the table in front of him. He retrieved the fork but instead of resuming eating he just held it, blinking at it as if he’d never seen it before.

Adrian watched Garrett a while longer before returning his attention to August. “So was the report and the ledger enough? Did he sign the warrant?

August took his time over cutting a forkful of meat, and chewed it with deliberate slowness. “Yes, Adrian. I’ve got the warrant in my office. Now leave me be and let me eat.”

Adrian poked at the slab of roast mutton on his plate. “I just wanted to know. I spent all morning on that report and—”

“Either shut up or go out. I do not feel like talking.”

Adrian set down his knife and fork, rubbing at his eye with the back of one hand. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Well you’d make the first person today.”

Adrian looked up, noticing for the first time how frazzled August looked. He’d discarded his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar. His normally neat hair was sticking up in odd places, as if he’d scrubbed his hands through it repeatedly.

“August, I’m sorry. I—”

Something knocked into his left side. It took a moment before Adrian recognised Garrett’s warm weight slumped against his arm. “Garrett?”

Adrian shifted backward to get a better look at him and had to snatch at Garrett before he hit the floor.

“Garrett!”

 

August jumped to his feet as Adrian struggled to pull Garrett upright. Adrian shot him a stricken look, his eye wide and face ashen.

“August! Help me.”

“Lay him down.”

Rounding the table, August pulled the chairs out of the way to leave space for Adrian to put Garrett down. He cupped a hand behind Garrett’s head to cushion it as Adrian lowered Garrett to the floor. August knelt over him, one hand automatically held over Garrett’s face to confirm he was still breathing. Other than the sudden fit of unconsciousness, nothing looked to be immediately wrong.

“Is he okay? What’s wrong? Why did he collapse like that?” Adrian staggered to his feet and paced the short distance between the table and wall. The words came in short rushes as Adrian gasped for breath. “It’s a relapse. Isn’t it? He did this on the ship.”

August didn’t reply, trying to focus on examining Garrett. He ignored the leaden chill spreading through him. A relapse now meant August had either missed something for weeks, or Garrett was not recovering as he’d thought. Inanition from seasickness had taken much more of a toll than it should have. At the time he’d not known of the Primal, or understood how using it affected Garrett. Having seen the way even a single use exhausted him, he didn’t doubt that Amaury forcing Garrett into repeatedly using it on the ship could be responsible for the state he’d arrived home in. August wondered if he shouldn’t have done something more, been more diligent at treating the symptoms, more adamant about forcing Garrett to rest rather than simply trying to persuade him. He needed to focus now and not make the same mistake.

Garrett was pale, more so than normal, and the dark circles under his eyes were much more pronounced than he’d seen them earlier. He breathed deep and even, the pulse in his carotid slow and steady under August’s fingers. August lifted the limp arm and let it fall back. No response. Next he gently prised open Garrett’s eyes to check for responsiveness. No real change he could detect, but it was hard to tell with Adrian stood over them blocking the light.

“August!” Adrian grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Is he okay?”

“If you’ll give me two minutes to examine him, I’ll tell you. Now calm down.”

Adrian stumbled back a step and sagged against the wall. “I thought he was doing better. He seemed better. What am I going to do?”

The bitter wail cut through August. He jerked his head up and raised his voice to be heard over Adrian’s hysterics. “Adrian Guillaume Marchand! Either calm down or go out!”

Garrett stirred, his eyes flickering open briefly. August pulled him up and shook him until Garrett’s eyes opened and he tried to pull away, then laid him back down and watched as he faded again. Whatever its cause, the coma was shallow. A small mercy. The back of his hand pressed to Garrett’s head felt no abnormal heat. Hard pinches to Garrett’s wrists and ankles produced the twitching he’d been looking for. No paralysis, at least. Yet.

He turned his attention back to Adrian to find he’d sat in one of the chairs, both hands covering his face. Heat prickled behind August’s eyes. He’d thought Garrett was on his way to a full recovery. He’d made certain the reintroduction of food was slow and tried his best to keep Garrett on full bedrest as long as he could. Some of the recent issues Adrian had mentioned, such as Garrett’s lethargy and refusing to leave the bedroom, he’d put down to battle fatigue. Had he been wrong? Had Garrett not been eating like they’d thought? Elsie had assured him that Garrett was eating. If it was a delayed sinking state brought on by having endured so much, August wasn’t sure there was much he could do. For now he’d have to treat it as the apoplexy it resembled, and hope Garrett pulled through.

“Ri, come help me. He needs to be in bed.”

There was a shudder and a deep intake of breath and then Adrian scrubbed his hands over his face and stood. The red-rimmed eye avoided looking in August’s direction as Adrian gathered Garrett up and rose to his feet with Garrett cradled in his arms.

Elsie met them in the hall, worry evident on her face. She undoubtedly had heard the shouting. Adrian walked right past her as if he hadn’t even noticed.

“Master August? Can I help with anything?” Dishsoap-reddened hands plucked at her apron. She turned to watch Adrian’s retreating back as he carried Garrett up the stairs.

“Could you please put away Garrett’s dinner? And bring up some tea to Adrian’s room.”

“Of course, sir.”

August trudged up the stairs, arriving at the bedroom doorway in time to see Adrian lay Garrett gently on the bed. Rolling Garrett onto his side to face the window, Adrian carefully arranged the pillows around him to support his head and stop him slipping onto his back. His movements were deft and sure, almost automatic, as if this were familiar routine for them. August smiled sadly, recognising the lessons he’d taught Adrian when he’d helped out at the hospital. On the voyage home it would have been essential, to prevent Garrett from choking should he be sick before Adrian could get to him. Not so vital now, of course, though he hoped the familiarity of it would at least be reassuring.

Once satisfied, Adrian crouched down beside the bed, smoothing Garrett’s hair back from his face. He bent his head low over Garrett’s, a curtain of blond strands spilling across the pillow around them as he murmured something under his breath, too soft for August to make out.

August moved over to the window to give Adrian a moment to collect himself. Resting a hand on the frame he peered out at the street below. How was he supposed to take care of Garrett when he didn’t even understand this Primal or what it could do? He’d seen Garrett’s exhaustion from using it to heal Adrian, but there might easily be a dozen other lurking dangers. What use was a physician against something more rightly belonging to a fairytale than a textbook?

August scrubbed his hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. This wasn’t helping any of them, least of all Garrett. He couldn’t be distracted like this. Focus. Forget about what he couldn’t change, and focus on what he knew. So far everything pointed to apoplexy, but what kind?

If Adrian was right about Garrett relapsing, then apoplexia exsanguinea seemed likely. The final—potentially fatal—stage of inanition, it had been a very real threat during the first few days, one that should have long since passed once Garrett rallied. But if August had missed something, if the exhaustion from the Primal had exacerbated something? He couldn’t rule it out—he simply didn’t know enough.

The other possibility, he didn’t even want to think about. He couldn’t bear seeing Adrian go through that again.

“How did he seem when you came home? Did you notice anything unusual? Was he complaining of headache or nausea?

Adrian finished pulling the blanket up over Garrett and tucked it around him before he looked up. “He never complains. Of anything.”

“So you didn’t notice anything unusual at all about the way he was acting? Either today, or over the last few days.”

Adrian straightened and took a step back from the bed. Shoulders hunched and head down, he ran a jerky hand through his hair, glaring at nothing in particular as his fingers caught in the tangles.

“When I first found him he was up in the attic. Shivering, but with the window open. It’s not like him—he hates the cold—but I didn’t see any reason to be alarmed about it. He seemed very lethargic, mostly. Barely responded to me, almost like he couldn’t hear me, or … or like he was—distant, somehow. Like he wasn’t entirely here …” Adrian trailed off as his voice cracked. He yanked off his eyepatch and tossed it down onto the bed, rubbing the back of his hand against the empty socket. “And unsteady … I had to help him down the attic stairs. He was so filthy. I had to give him a bath. I had to do everything for him. He didn’t even help. It was just like on the ship, when … when—”

“Filthy?” August prompted and tried to ignore the way Adrian’s breath hitched.

“He was covered in dust. And … and bruises. Like he’d been rolling on the floor.”

August turned back toward the window, removing his glasses. He took his time polishing them on the hem of his shirt, taking advantage of the blurry confusion to avoid having to look at his brother. Dust alone might mean nothing—it was filthy enough up in the attic—but bruises too? Bruises suggested some kind of violence or accident. Several possibilities sprang to mind, none of them good. Vertigo. Syncope. _Convulsions_.

He had no means of knowing for certain if Garrett had suffered any other symptoms before Adrian found him, but it seemed a safe assumption. From what he knew of Garrett, if the man felt truly unwell he might hide rather than seek help. The attic would have seemed an ideal hiding place. August squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. There hadn’t been any help for Garrett to seek; August had been with the magistrate all afternoon. If he’d been home he might have been able to do something to lessen the attack. Maybe even avert it altogether, if only he’d caught it early enough.

“And you said he seemed lethargic?”

“He couldn’t get in or out of the tub on his own. I had to do everything for him or he’d just stand there staring at nothing. Like he was sleepwalking. Is that bad? That’s bad isn’t it? I knew I was right to be worried.”

“Adrian, calm down. It could be nothing.”

August doubted it was nothing. An earlier attack of syncope that left Garrett in the state Adrian had seen … a picture was forming, and it was the very last one he wanted to contemplate. Not a relapse after all, but something worse. Ingravescent apoplexy. Replacing his glasses on his nose he looked over at the dark shape of Garrett’s head nestled between the pillows. Usually fatal.

A tremor ran through him, misting his vision. He hadn’t realised he’d become so attached to the thief, but it wasn’t just that. If Garrett died, then Adrian …

“You go finish dinner. I’ll join you shortly.” He’d administer aromatic spirits of ammonia. The gentle restorative would bolster Garrett’s strength without causing irritation. Garrett was not dead yet, and August might still be wrong. Gods to graveholes, he wanted to be wrong.

Adrian sat heavily on the edge of the bed next to Garrett, resting his elbows against his knees. Loose hair fell forward to hide his face as he let his head hang.

“I’ll do everything I can for him, Adrian. Right now there isn’t anything else for you to do. Garrett needs rest and quiet to recover.”

“You don’t know that he’ll recover.” Adrian’s hoarse whisper was barely audible, the words halting and forced as if voicing his fear might somehow make it true. “Not for certain.”

August closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. Adrian was right. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, for certain. There was still a chance Garrett might wake up and be fine. But if August was right, it was far more likely he’d die without ever waking at all, whether in a few hours or a few days … August blinked several times and squared his shoulders. Right now it was more important to keep Adrian calm.

“I do know, and I don’t appreciate your demanding my help and then dismissing what I say. He needs rest. You’d do better to leave him be for now.”

Adrian glanced up at him and shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.”

The mustache and goatee disguised the pout somewhat, but for a brief moment Adrian reminded August of when as a young boy he’d get stubborn over something. August sighed and let his gaze drop to the floor as the tears that had been shimmering in Adrian’s eye finally spilled over. Adrian wasn’t going to calm down until Garrett woke and was able to reassure Adrian himself that he was fine. August refused to acknowledge any other possible outcome. He wasn’t going to watch Adrian waste another seven years mourning, not even if he had to threaten Red Jenny herself—Garrett was going to be fine.

The burst of resolve lasted long enough for August to make it downstairs to his workroom and set about mixing the aromatic spirits of ammonia into a little warm water. On his return he retrieved the laudanum bottle. He’d have Adrian drink some with the tea. It would be the only way any of them would get any sleep, and tomorrow was too important for Adrian to be exhausted.

By the time he got back to the bedroom Elsie had arrived and was setting out the tea service. August had her make a cup for Adrian, then took it from her to add the laudanum.

“I don’t need drugged, August.”

“Garrett is suffering from what looks to be apoplexia exsanguinea. He will recover, but only if he’s able to rest quietly, and if you can’t calm down then I can’t let you stay with him. You cannot be disturbing him with these outbursts. The laudanum will help you sleep tonight. Tomorrow, after you serve the warrant, I’ll arrange for someone to cover the remainder of your shift so you can come home and sit with him. You can help me give him a restorative if he’s still weak.”

“Master Garrett is sick?” Elsie replaced the teapot on the tray, then produced a cloth from somewhere to wipe up where a few drops had spilled over onto Adrian’s desk.

“He collapsed at dinner.”

Elsie tutted. “Ain’t no wonder. Never seen anyone sleep so little. He spent all day pacing the attic. He only came down to eat, or drink more coffee. I’ve had to clean these floors three times today for all the dust he dragged down with him. He reminds me of before I came to work here. I saw girls collapse after working two days at the factories with no rest at all. It weren’t right.”

“You mean he’s not slept today? At all?” Adrian was on his feet now, staring at Elsie. August took the opportunity to hand him the cup of tea. Adrian took it without even looking at it.

“No, sir. Last I found him sleeping during the day was at least a week ago. He don’t hardly sleep when you are at work. Not since you and Captain Leonard were injured.”

August couldn’t be sure if insomnia might be the cause, or one of the early symptoms. It could equally be either. He adjusted his glasses, thinking over the past week. Lethargy, insomnia, abrupt changes in sleeping patterns, nightmares … had this been coming on for a whole week and he’d not noticed? Premonitory signs of apoplexy were often subtle and easily overlooked, but Adrian had noticed. Adrian had even tried to tell him, but he’d assumed it was down to Garrett’s battle fatigue and thought no more of it.

“Thank you, Elsie. Will you meet me in my office in a few minutes?” Elsie knew more than anyone what went on in the house. She’d assured him that Garrett was eating, but if he’d only warned her what else he needed to watch for, then this might never have happened.

Elsie curtsied. “Yes, sir.”

August turned back to Adrian who stood with his head down, the teacup cradled in his palm.

“Drink the tea and go to bed, if you aren’t going to eat dinner.”

Adrian gave him a blank look and then finally nodded. August waved him out of the way so he could examine Garrett again, anxious to be sure he’d not missed anything. For Garrett to recover, August couldn’t afford to make the same mistake again. He would keep a closer eye on Garrett, if only for Adrian’s sake.


	21. Chapter 21

Frost-coated railings sparkled in the pale sunlight as if encrusted with tiny jewels. The thin layer of fresh snow that fell overnight had already been trampled by passing feet. Adrian’s boots squelched through the muddy slush as he followed Morgan down Hamilton Street.

Pedestrians hastily crossed the street to avoid them, unnerved by the sight of two grim-faced Watch Captains heading a squad of seven. It had been months since the Watch had been out in force, even a group this small. Adrian did his best to ignore the worried and furtive looks following in their wake. Despite the damage wreaked by the Graven in their assault on the Keep, Dayport hadn’t seen anything near as bad as Stonemarket suffered. The bulk of the damage from the fires and the riots, and the corrupt burden of Harlan’s Watch, had been borne almost entirely by the poorer districts. Still, no one had forgotten the enforced curfews and the lockdown measures.

“This is it.” Morgan slowed as they neared the house. “I’ll go up first. The rest of you wait here.”

Adrian stood at the base of the steps, scuffing his boot against the cobbles as he glanced at the Watchmen clustered around him. This felt too much like the times he’d gone ashore with his crew to sack small coastal villages at Rozzen’s orders. He and Morgan were here legally, on the City’s behalf, but … they were still invading someone’s home. This was different, he reminded himself sternly. They weren’t here to steal. Everything they took from the house had already been stolen from the City. They were simply taking it back. And not just anyone’s home, but Thaddeus Harlan’s home. The Thief-Taker General, who had clapped Adrian on the shoulder as he described in gleeful detail his plans to torture Garrett to death.

The iron key hidden in his belt pouch grew heavier and heavier, until he was surprised no one noticed its bulk weighting him down. Behind the painting in Harlan’s office, Garrett had said. He needed to find some way of ensuring he was either alone in the room, or that no one caught him planting the evidence only to discover it again moments later.

“You okay there, Captain?”

Adrian glanced down at Jerome, disconcerted that he hadn’t seen the boy’s approach.

Jerome cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re gonna chew the ends off your mustache.”

Adrian ran thumb and forefinger down either side of his mouth and tried to look serious. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Jerome smirked, “you’re chewing your mustache off ‘cause you’re fine. Wouldn’t have anything to do with your injured friend, would it?”

Adrian glanced sharply at Jerome as something quivered in his stomach. Garrett still hadn’t woken and August was being evasive. Before Adrian left for work they had managed to get Garrett to swallow some spirits of ammonia, but so far there’d been little change overnight.

He blinked several times and looked back at the house where Morgan was talking to someone. “He … took a turn.”

“Oh. Sorry, Captain.” Jerome reached up to pat Adrian’s arm. “You need anything, Eric and I will help out.”

“Thank you. Right now, I just want to serve this warrant.” Adrian tried for a smile, but judging by Jerome’s expression the result was less than convincing.

Jerome nodded and wandered back over to stand just a fraction closer to Eric than propriety demanded. Eric brushed his gloved fingers lightly over Jerome’s, before dropping his hand back to the hilt of his sword.

Adrian shoved the fear to the back of his mind, ignoring the burning pain in his chest. August was home. Whether he was hiding something or not, August would take good care of Garrett. By the time Adrian was done with the warrant and on his way home, Garrett would already be awake and waiting for him.

He peered up at the house, shading his eyes from the glare of sunlight off the white limestone. How had Garrett managed to get inside? The ironwork tracery fastened across every visible window was impressively ornate, but no less impenetrable than the bars of a prison cell. He doubted that Garrett would be forced to rely on something so mundane and unreliable as waiting for someone to leave a door open, and there was probably no truth to the rumor that the Master Thief was a ghost who infiltrated bank vaults by walking through the walls. Probably. So what did that leave? He’d have to remember to ask Garrett later.

“Let’s go.” Morgan beckoned them from the top of the stairs. “I’d like to be done here by lunch.”

The entrance hall was warm and bright, lit by a pair of metal wall sconces. Rich wood paneling complemented the expensive woven rug. A coat and hat hung on the hall tree to the right of the door, an umbrella propped in the stand below. It was all so … normal. He’d almost expected the house to be similar to the jail at the Keep. Dark, dank, dreary, and decorated with instruments of torture. Nothing here would have looked out of place in August’s house.

Except for the grim-faced woman stood at the foot of the stairs. She too was nothing like Adrian had imagined, though he’d never thought anyone could have stomached marriage to Harlan in the first place. Wispy greying hair was scraped into a bun. At one time she might have been beautiful. Ernestine Harlan’s steely glare rested on each of them in turn. The weight of her presence towered over him even though she couldn’t have been much taller than Garrett.

“I don’t expect there is anything I can say or do to dissuade you from ransacking my home?” Her tone was quiet but somehow all the more commanding for it, each word as sharp and crisp as cut glass.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The magistrate has authorized the search and seizure.” Morgan offered her a conciliatory smile, but Ernestine’s severe expression failed to soften by even the slightest degree.

“On what grounds?”

“Your late husband left a detailed record—”

“Did he? And just how did _you_ happen to stumble over this record?”

“Captain Barbeaux found the ledger belonging to Mr. Harlan in his former office at Northcrest Manor.” Morgan gestured toward Adrian, who took the opportunity to step forward. Removing his helmet, he tucked it under his arm.

Ernestine’s gaze raked over him. “So. You’re Ambrose’s youngest. Too simple for the merchant trade or the study of medicine, so what’s left? Intimidating citizens and accosting widows?”

Adrian clenched his jaw as heat swept over his face. “Th-that’s not—”

“I’m not interested in your callow excuses. Just hurry and get on with it. You break anything or anything comes up missing, and I’ll be certain everyone knows the Watch hasn’t changed at all.” The murderous glare forestalled any further comment. She gathered up her skirts and marched up the stairs, leaving them shuffling nervously on the spotless chequerboard tiles.

“Crusty old battleaxe.” The low mutter from behind Adrian felt uncomfortably loud in the oppressive hush.

“She’d have to be, to marry the Thief-Taker.”

“Enough chatter,” Morgan cut in. “Get to work. Adrian, you take Douglas, Jerome and Eric. Where do you want to concentrate your search? Upstairs or downstairs?”

Morgan’s expression remained carefully neutral, but the knowing look in the warm hazel eyes left Adrian in no doubt as to his real question.

“We’ll take the upper floors.”

Morgan nodded. “The rest of you are with me.”

The housemaid who had hovered wringing her hands beside the green baize door approached Adrian, holding up a large keyring. “Sir … Mistress Harlan prefers to keep rooms locked when they’re not being used. You’ll need these.”

Adrian took the keys, nodding his thanks. She bobbed a quick curtsey and fled back belowstairs. The door swung shut behind her to cut off the sound of her retreating footsteps.

Adrian sent the others on ahead and took his time on the stairs, careful to keep his hand on the banister and watch each step before he placed his feet. Still mortified by Ernestine’s scathing comments, he really didn’t want to fall flat on his face and further embarrass himself. They’d start in the attic. By the time they’d worked their way down to Harlan’s study the two Blackbrook mercenaries following him would hopefully lose interest.

“So this is what passes for the Watch now?” The taller of the two sneered at him, and nudged his companion.

“Looks like a bunch of gulpy rozzers to me. Nothing but mutton shunters and punishers.”

Adrian shut the dresser drawer with a thud. He strode over to the men leaning against either side of the doorframe. They both came alert and fumbled for their swords as his shadow fell over them. Adrian stepped right up close to them so that they were forced to crane their necks upward to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t quite hear over the bleating from a couple of fat little fart catchers.”

“An oversized half-blind slop like you don’t scare me. We heard about how a bunch of half-starved vagrants took the City from your lot.” The mercenary sneered at him. “You want some trouble, I’ll give you some.”

“Do I look like someone afraid of trouble?” Adrian grinned and watched the defiant expression waver. These milksops had no idea what horrors he’d faced. They were nothing but empty bluster. “I’ll be very happy to buy Mrs. Harlan a new rug after you bleed out on this one. Now bugger off and let us do our job, unless you like the idea of spending a night in the cells for obstructing Watch business and wasting my time.”

It didn’t take long to search the cramped and sparsely furnished bedrooms belonging to the guards and servants. Once they were done in the attic, Adrian had them move down to the floor below.

All the doors leading off the third floor landing were unlocked. Adrian pushed a door open at random, glancing inside. Odd—the housemaid had said that unused rooms were kept locked, but the sheeted furniture and coating of dust across every surface made it abundantly clear the bedroom had gone empty for some considerable time. He’d bet money this had belonged to Thaddeus Harlan. Not quite every surface. Adrian ducked his head to hide the smile. A trail of small footprints across the dusty carpet led toward him from the connecting door to the adjacent room. Garrett had been through here. Adrian stepped inside and walked a circuit of the room as if making a cursory examination. He was careful to scuff his boots against the carpet as he went, to ensure Garrett’s tracks were obliterated by his own.

The connecting door led to an office. Adrian grimaced at the stacks of papers and files overflowing across the desk. More footprints crisscrossed the room, doubling back on themselves until it was almost impossible to distinguish individual tracks. Garrett had spent some considerable time searching in here, from the looks of it. This was going to take longer than he’d expected. Thaddeus Harlan’s crooked leer bore down on him from the large portrait hanging over the unlit fireplace. That must be the painting Garrett had mentioned.

Adrian turned to look for the others and nearly tripped over Jerome who had followed much closer then he thought. He rested a hand against the doorframe, angling his body to block Jerome’s view.

“Jerome, take Douglas and check the room opposite. Eric, you’re in here. I’ll take the office.”

He didn’t bother waiting for the acknowledgement. He wouldn’t have brought the three of them if he didn’t trust them. As long as he made sure Eric and Jerome weren’t left alone together to distract each other. Adrian smoothed his fingers over his mustache and tried to suppress the chuckle. Supervising those two reminded him of the riddle about trying to cross the river with the fox, the goose and the bag of beans.

Adrian stepped into the office, pushing the door to behind him. Closing it altogether would be safer, but would look strange. He set his helmet down on the desk and flopped down into the leather chair. The Watch insignia stared back at him from the cover of nearly every file. What had Harlan been doing with all these? Adrian pulled the nearest file toward him and flicked through it. Any official Watch reports should have been kept either at headquarters or one of the Watch Stations, not here. So why had Harlan taken them home? He’d have to go through them later to find out why.

Engrossed in reading, it took Adrian a moment to notice the amber eyes staring at him over the top of the file. The cat blinked at him from where it perched atop a stack of papers.

Adrian lowered the file as he glanced over at the door, now standing wide open. “When did—”

It chirruped at him and jumped down from the stack to pick its way carefully across the precarious clutter. The fluffy black tail curled neatly around its front paws as it seated itself squarely in the middle of the file he’d been holding.

“I was reading that.”

Another chirrup, more forceful this time. Fighting a smile, Adrian reached over to scratch behind the pricked ears. The cat head-butted his palm hard enough it nearly overbalanced as he combed his fingers through the soft fur. Half-buried in the long silky coat, the collar was all but invisible. Colorless gemstones studded the dark blue leather. Surely those weren’t diamonds. What use was there in such a fancy collar on a cat? Granted, they might be only glass or paste; Garrett would likely know just from looking at them. A shame Ernestine was certain to notice its loss, else he’d be tempted to pocket it for Garrett’s collection. Adrian ran his fingers down the collar until he found the engraved tag.

“Ferdinand.” Adrian chuckled. An imposing name for an imposing cat.

Reluctant to shoo Ferdinand off the file he’d claimed, Adrian turned his attention to the remainder of the desk. It was unlikely there’d be anything here directly related to the Black Tax. The dust over all the papers was dotted with little fingerprints. If Garrett had found something relevant he’d have mentioned it when he handed over the ledger, but that didn’t mean they might not contain information on anything else underhanded Harlan had been involved with. Adrian wouldn’t put it past the man to have had any number of shady operations running at once. His apparent partnership with Jeb Chokes and the Eelbiters, for one. It would have to wait. Right now he had more pressing things to worry about.

Adrian started making a pile of the files he ought to take away with him, but abandoned the effort after only a few minutes. Nearly everything here was Watch related; it would be faster to just take everything. He’d have to remember to send someone to fetch a wagon to shift everything back to Northcrest Manor. There was far too much here for even all nine of them to carry, and there was still a whole chest full of ledgers waiting to be found in the secret basement.

He levered himself out of the chair and turned to face Harlan’s portrait. At first glance there didn’t seem anything unusual about the painting. What was he missing? How had Garrett known to look here? Or maybe it wasn’t anything specific to this painting that had tipped Garrett off. Garrett no doubt knew pretty much every place someone might think to hide something. Maybe he checked every painting he found. Other than the obvious, Adrian knew very little of what a Master Thief actually did. Maybe he ought to ask Garrett once he woke. He’d seen plenty of Garrett’s uncanny ability to vanish even in an empty room. Garrett seemed to take great delight in catching Adrian off-guard only to materialize directly behind him. Maybe Garrett would be willing to share one or two of his other secrets.

Moving in closer, he prodded experimentally at one corner of the frame. Nothing moved—the whole painting seemed solidly fixed to the wall. Was that normal? He tried pulling on the frame instead. It swung away from the wall on hidden hinges, much easier than he’d have expected such a large painting could move. Pinpricks left behind in the plaster suggested that something had been tacked to the wall. Was this where Garrett had found that map? A corner of the paper backing fluttered as he moved the frame. He gently pulled it back to find a shallow gap underneath where the frame sat deeper than the painting it contained. There was enough space in between the painting and its backing to hide the key that Garrett had found.

Adrian glanced over at the door to make sure no one was watching him. His only witness was Ferdinand, who was preoccupied with exploring the trinkets and picture frames along the top of a low bookcase. Taking the key out of his pouch Adrian turned to survey the office a final time. He left Harlan’s portrait hanging away from the wall in case anyone questioned where the key had come from.

There wasn’t anything else to be done here, other than send someone in to confiscate all the files. All Adrian needed for now was the key. He retrieved his helmet and headed for the door that led directly out onto the third floor landing. As he passed the bookcase, Ferdinand let out a meow altogether too feeble and high-pitched for such a hefty cat. Adrian stopped to rub his fingers under Ferdinand’s chin, taking time to enjoy the loud purrs. Maybe he ought to suggest to August that it would be nice to have a cat around the house. Did Garrett like cats?

Voices out on the landing filtered through the door. Jerome and Douglas must have finished already. He ought to be going. The sooner they discovered the secret basement, the sooner he could be done and on his way home to Garrett. Ferdinand jumped down from the bookcase to follow him as he turned away. Something thudded onto the carpet, accompanied by the sharp crack of breaking glass. Adrian crouched to pick up the frame, cringing at the vision of Ernestine spreading rumors amongst the nobility of how the brutish Watch looted and destroyed all her possessions.

The frame held a pair of small fingerless leather gloves, pinned to a felt backing. Odd. Who framed clothing? They looked familiar. His stomach lurched and he nearly dropped the frame. These were Garrett’s gloves; there was no mistaking them. He swallowed as nausea hit him. If he hadn’t rescued Garrett that night it would have been Garrett’s hand on display in Harlan’s office, not just his gloves. He flung the frame back onto the bookcase and stalked out of the room. Enough of this pretense.

Douglas and Jerome waited outside on the landing. Adrian avoided looking at them, looking around instead to see if Eric was finished yet.

“You alright, lad?”

Adrian glanced back at Douglas and nodded, hoping nothing showed on his face. “Let’s move on. I found a key that looks like it fits a heavy lock. I doubt we’ll find any doors up here that it’ll open.”

They met Morgan on his way up to get them. “I found something rather interesting in the basement. A trapdoor, but it’s locked tight. The maid says she can’t open it and doesn’t know who can. She has no idea what’s under it, either. Apparently it was installed some years ago while the servants were away with the missus. Just mentioning it to Harlan got the cook sacked.”

“I’m surprised it didn’t get him killed. I found a key hidden in Harlan’s office. Might see if it works.”

“Excellent.” Morgan’s beaming grin felt almost theatrical as he gestured for Adrian to lead the way downstairs.

The maid was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. She shook her head as Adrian and Morgan approached her. “I promise I don’t know what’s down there, really I don’t! Master Harlan never let on about his business.”

She twisted her apron between her fingers, shrinking in on herself with her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Adrian wondered just what she expected them to do. He’d seen Harlan beat Watchmen unconscious for failing him, and heard rumors of even worse. If Harlan’s maid was this fearful of disappointing them, he must have been just as cruel to his domestic servants as he was to the men under him.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and see if Mrs. Harlan needs anything?” Morgan patted her arm, jerking his head toward the stairs.

“Yes, sir.” The maid looked relieved as she bobbed a curtsey and left them to it.

Adrian poked his head into the small room without waiting for Morgan’s go-ahead. The cast iron trapdoor took up most of the floor space. A thin braided rope was tied around the ring fixed to the middle of the trapdoor. It looked familiar—was that Garrett’s? Leaving behind traces that blatant didn’t seem like him. The footprints in the dust he’d found earlier had been unavoidable—not even the Master Thief could fly—but a rope left in full view of the corridor? Adrian was no expert, and a dark rope lying on a black trapdoor was hard to spot, but leaving something like this behind felt dangerously careless.

Unease soured his stomach as he remembered the mess Garrett had left of the bathroom yesterday evening. He’d thought it odd at the time, but, once he’d found Garrett, the overwhelming worry had swept all that away. Garrett leaving behind traces of himself in Adrian’s bathroom was hardly in the same league as leaving behind traces on a job, but the similarity was undeniable. Had Garrett already felt unwell even before Adrian sent him into the house? Why hadn’t he said anything? Adrian had already been searching for weeks to find the evidence he needed. The job could easily have waited a few more days if Garrett had needed more time to recover first. Glancing behind to make certain no one could see what he was doing, Adrian knelt beside the trapdoor and hastily untied the rope. He tossed it into the corner where it would go unnoticed.

Adrian set down his helmet on the flagstones beside the trapdoor. He slid the key into the lock, and twisted. A heavy _thunk_ , and the bolt drew back. Climbing back to his feet he braced himself and grasped the ring with both hands. Flecks of rust worked their way out of the hinges as he wrestled the trapdoor open, grunting with effort. It was clear that it had gone unused for a long time before Garrett unsealed it. No wonder Garrett said he’d had trouble with the trapdoor; it easily weighed twice what he did. Once he’d forced the trapdoor upright, Adrian let it fall where its own weight would keep it open. It crashed back against the wall with a screech of unoiled hinges.

“Glad you’re here, Captain. Woulda taken three of us to get that open.” Eric knelt beside the yawning hole in the floor. “There’s a ladder.”

“And a pulley should we need it.”

Adrian looked up at where Jerome pointed. That had to have been how Garrett got the trapdoor open. He wouldn’t have stood a chance of lifting it himself. The rope made sense if that were the case.

“Good. Go ahead and see what’s down there.” Morgan reached up and unhooked the lantern hanging overhead. He handed it to Jerome.

Jerome passed the lantern to Eric. “You’re comin’ with.”

The pair disappeared into the darkness below, only to reappear at the bottom of the ladder a few moments later.

“Captain! This place is stuffed full of chests and boxes. You won’t believe what all we found.”

“Is it Watch property?” Adrian swung his legs into the hole and started down the ladder.

“Looks to be. Everything has the Watch stamp on it. We haven’t looked inside the crates yet.”

Morgan dispatched two of the men to continue searching the upper floors, while the rest of them descended the ladder. Adrian lit both of the oil lamps on the floor behind the ladder and claimed one for himself. A thicket of flickering shadows danced on the earth walls as they milled about in the cramped space.

“Over here.” Eric held his lantern up to illuminate the jagged hole in the single stone wall.

Adrian was forced to duck to get through without smacking his head into the stone blocks above the hole. Beyond, the close confines opened up into a much larger space. Adrian walked a little way into the room and held his lantern up to examine his surroundings. The pool of light barely touched upon the far wall, offering a hint of pitch-dark archways and narrow passages leading off into the ruins. He wondered what had once stood here before Dayport grew around and over the site, as the old buildings found themselves buried beneath the foundations of the new. How many years had it lain abandoned before Harlan stumbled across it?

The faint sound of water dripping somewhere deeper into the ruin was nearly drowned out by the bustle of the men piling into the room behind him. Jerome pulled out his tinderbox and moved around the room to light the torches that sat in rusted brackets at regular intervals along each wall. Gradually the smell of must and mold gave way to the tang of woodsmoke.

The crates and chests Garrett had described were lined up along the sides of the room. Adrian set his lantern on the floor beside the chest nearest to him. The lid lifted easily. Presumably Garrett had already unlocked them all when he searched the basement.

Inside were sacks full of coin. Pulling one out he hefted it in his palm and listened to the satisfying clinks as the coins shifted. Easily over a hundred gold, just in this one sack—and how many dozens of sacks just in this one chest? How many chests? It would all need to be counted before they could decide how to put all this to use. Weeks of searching, and he’d found the Black Tax. He clenched his fingers tight around the sack, feeling somehow as if his insides were vibrating. If Garrett felt anything akin to this heady rush when snatching whichever prize he’d set his sights on, then Adrian could well see the appeal of thievery. Piracy and looting held nothing on this. He tossed the sack back on top of the others in the chest and let the lid drop shut.

An excited shout from the far end of the room had them all turning to look. “Sir! I found more ledgers. A chest stuffed full of them. It looks like the one Captain Barbeaux found wasn’t the only one.”

“So this is where he’s been hiding all his illegal gains.” Morgan closed the lid of the chest he’d been sorting through, and stood. His golden brown skin seemed almost to glow under the warm torchlight as he flashed Adrian a wide grin. “It’s a good thing you found that ledger or we’d have never come across any of this. We’ll be confiscating everything. This is Watch property, and material evidence of Thaddeus Harlan’s illegal activities. One of you needs to take inventory while I go call for a wagon.”

“Do we really have to inventory everything inside every chest? Because that could take all day.” Eric scratched the back of his neck, eyeing the rows of chests with a dubious expression.

“Yes. And I want all of it cross-checked against those ledgers.”

“We’ll be here for the next week at that rate.”

Adrian followed Morgan back out to the ladder and tapped him on the shoulder as he grasped the first rung. “If we take too long Mrs. Harlan is going to throw a fit. Couldn’t we just load everything up and take it back to Northcrest Manor? We can catalog everything in peace once we get there.”

Morgan frowned at him for a moment before finally nodding. “Okay. But I want you personally to see to it that each crate and chest is sealed or locked until we can get to it.”

“You’ll need to get hold of some chains and padlocks as well, then. We don’t have keys for any of these chests. You might want to get more than one wagon. Most of the papers in Harlan’s office belong to the Watch, and we need to take those as well.”

Morgan nodded and started up the ladder. “You might be right about that. Come on up and deal with the missus for me while I get the wagons.”

“What? Why me?”

“I think she likes you.”

Adrian glared at Morgan’s boots as they disappeared up through the trapdoor. Ernestine Harlan might not be as physically imposing as her late husband, but Adrian would have rather faced the Thief-Taker than endure any more verbal abuse.

Ernestine was waiting for them in the corridor, with crossed arms and a thunderous expression. A smaller figure stepped into view from behind her. For a moment Adrian thought she was a child, until she tilted her head back to peer up at him with pointed curiosity. Rylan was the only other person he could remember meeting with hair that red.

“Are you finished? I have other more important matters to attend to.”

Morgan gestured to Adrian. “Captain Barbeaux will explain the situation.”

Ernestine’s frosty gaze fell on Adrian. “Can you manage it without stumbling over your words this time?”

Adrian walked up close, forcing her to look up at him. More often than not his extra height was a liability, making it harder to walk through doorways without knocking his head. But it worked to great advantage for being intimidating when he wanted to be. He’d stood his ground when Rozzen threatened his life; he could handle this.

“Mrs. Harlan, it has come to light that your late husband was the mastermind behind the so-called Black Tax. Evidence of his crimes has been found in the basement below this trapdoor. The Watch will be confiscating all the evidence and any related materials, including the contents of his office.”

Adrian watched as she paled, eyes widening. Just as quickly her cheeks reddened.

“You have no right to level such accusations against a dead man. I demand to see this evidence.”

Adrian shook his head. “It won’t change the facts. The contents of that room are Watch property and we are removing it today. You’ll be provided with an inventory of the confiscated items once they’ve been logged into evidence.”

He jerked back as she shook a finger in his face. “I have a right to know what is down there. You cannot just take things from my home!”

“What is down there is proof that Mr. Harlan was even more corrupt than he was violent. The warrant gives us all the rights we need to confiscate evidence related to his crimes. Now, you can either quietly watch us work or you can go on about your business.”

Ernestine narrowed her eyes. “You think I’m unaware of Thaddeus’ activities? He was only a symptom of the disease that festers in this city.”

“Mrs. Harlan, are you perhaps admitting that you knowingly received the proceeds of your late husband’s crimes?” Those hours he’d spent poring over the Watch procedures manual had paid off after all. “If this is the case, perhaps you ought to accompany us to Northcrest Manor to help us investigate this further.”

Ernestine’s nostrils flared as she drew in a sharp breath. Abruptly dismissing Adrian with a flick of her head, she turned her back on him to take the hand of her diminutive companion. “Come, Gertrude. I won’t stay here to watch these scoundrels steal what should be mine.”

“It’ll be alright, Ernestine. You’ll see. Let’s go finish breakfast.” The petite redhead glanced over her shoulder at Adrian as the two of them left. There was something hard, almost challenging, in her pale green eyes.

Adrian stared after them for a moment before turning back to the ladder. Part of him wondered if he could have handled the situation better. He didn’t like upsetting the woman, but he also knew what kind of man her husband had really been. At least she didn’t know that he’d been the one to kill him.

Douglas was waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder. The kind smile helped take some of the edge off Adrian’s anxiety and frustration. They’d barely even started here, but already he just wanted to be done so he could go home and check on Garrett.

“She’ll do right after the shock wears off.”

Adrian nodded and gave a start as something heavy landed on his shoulder and dug in with little pins. Ferdinand rubbed his head along Adrian's chin and then jumped down. He crouched to scratch Ferdinand behind his ears. “I hope so. It’s not like we are here to antagonize her personally.”

“She’s not the only thing upsetting you though, is she?”

Adrian took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “No. You’re fortunate you never had to work under him. I’ve seen a lot of cruelty and unnecessary bloodshed in my life, but not many people who actively enjoyed hurting people the way he did. Being here and finding everything he stole is a reminder of the pain he inflicted on so many.”

“I didnae work for him, but I saw him alright. Assaulted one of my lads back at Moira, he did, though I never learned how come. Left him alone all of five minutes ‘fore I heard the carrying on. Had to stop him throttling the wee lad.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I would have liked to see him get an actual trial instead of what happened.” That wasn’t true. He’d been more than happy to take care of Harlan himself, even if he wasn’t proud of killing the other Watchmen in the ceremony room. They’d only been doing their jobs. A couple had been his colleagues.

“Men like that have a way of getting away with it. But the Baron and his hound both got what was coming.”

Adrian nodded, mentally adding Rozzen to that list. “We should go help the others. This is going to take a while.”

He ducked back through the hole into the basement and had to catch himself on the wall as he nearly tripped over the cat. Ferdinand didn’t seem concerned, taking the opportunity to wind around his legs and chirrup at him. Careful to step over him, Adrian did a quick headcount. Jerome and Eric were missing. Of course they were. Adrian retrieved his lantern and headed toward the back where they’d found some smaller alcoves opening off the main room. Soft laughter directed him to the alcove furthest from the entrance, where the torchlight couldn’t quite penetrate the shadows. Adrian leant against the wall just outside but didn’t look in.

“You’ve got five minutes before I come drag you out.”

“Can we make it ten?” Eric sounded slightly out of breath.

“How ‘bout three, and I tell Captain Leonard when he returns?”

“Five is good.”

The enthusiastic shuffling about in the dark within the alcove failed to disguise Jerome’s urgent whisper. “You’re gonna get us sacked just because you can’t keep your kecks on.”

“Shh! We’ve only got five minutes.”

Laughing to himself Adrian returned to help the others. That pair badly needed to learn how to keep their voices down. Along with other things.

He stood in the middle of the basement, dragging a hand through his hair as he surveyed the room. Ferdinand darted between two chests, something glittering caught in his teeth. They needed to put everything in some kind of order before they moved anything, or they’d miss something and confuse themselves. Pen and paper. None of this was going to work without some kind of list. He dispatched one of the men up to Harlan’s office to retrieve a fistful of pencils, and any blank notebooks he could find. Numbering each crate and chest would be best, and then a short list of the contents in each while they waited for the wagons. It might help them keep things somewhat orderly.

He’d just finished passing out the pencils when he heard several exclamations.

“Captain! Captain, look at this!”

Adrian let out a whistle. The massive gemstone held between Eric’s fingers was large as a goose egg and glittered with internal fire as it reflected the torchlight.

“It’s the Heart of the Lion. I remember this from the raid on the clock tower,” Eric said. “There’s a whole bunch of other stuff here that I recognize, too.”

“There’s some of those weird creepy paintings of animals with clothes on over here.” Jerome tugged one of the canvases out of the chest, holding it up perilously close to the nearest torch as he squinted at it.

Adrian moved over to peer over Jerome’s shoulder. The painting he held was very similar to the three Garrett had brought home. Was this another Montonessi? August had said the paintings alone were worth a fortune. More canvases lay spread out on top of the contents of the chest. Just how many of them had Garrett owned? He looked around at the rows of chests again. The sacks of coins were undoubtedly the proceeds of the Black Tax, but the trinkets and treasures? These had all belonged to Garrett before Harlan took them. How many years’ worth of work did this represent for him? All of this was worth several fortunes. Garrett had known his things were here, yet he’d given them up. All of them.

He stepped back on shaky legs, and nearly fell headlong as Ferdinand shot past him to jump up onto the nearest crate. Quickly gathering himself he gestured to the chests.

“Just hurry up. We need to be done here as fast as possible. This isn’t an art gallery.”

Turning away he pretended to write down the information on the pad of paper they’d taken from the office. He stared down at the page, the words blurred and indistinct. He couldn’t return any of this to Garrett. Couldn’t make right what Garrett had suffered. Adrian rubbed at his eye and looked at the page again. Maybe he could. Even just one thing might show Garrett his sacrifice hadn’t gone unnoticed. If he broached the subject carefully, he might be able to convince August that Garrett deserved a reward for funding the Watch for the next decade. There might even be enough here to rebuild half the City. He nodded to himself as he made notes. That would work. August would understand that.

Behind him Jerome was whispering to Eric again. How did the boy not realize everyone could hear every word? “What’s wrong with Captain Barbeaux? He seems mad about something.”

“He’s probably just sorry he missed the raid on the clock tower.”


	22. Chapter 22

The new front door crashed into the wall. A smaller clatter followed as Adrian’s helmet skittered across the slate tiles and bounced off the newel post at the foot of the stairs. Adrian took the stairs two at a time, vaguely aware of Elsie calling after him. He didn't even slow.

He skidded to a halt outside his bedroom door. Bracing himself with a hand against the wall, he gasped for air. Only now did the quivering in his muscles make itself known—he hadn't felt any of it in the headlong rush up the hill from the ferry.

Adrian didn't dare reach for the doorknob until the splintering vice in his chest had subsided and his throat no longer burned. Rest and quiet. August had threatened to kick him out of the room if he disturbed Garrett. He couldn’t risk that happening. The soft creak in the hinges as the door swung open had him wincing. He'd have to ask Reginald to take care of that next time he saw him.

The windows had all been propped wide open and, despite the crackling fire and the gurgle from the radiator, the bedroom was cool. Garrett lay unmoving on the far side of the bed, facing the window. Extra blankets had been tucked around him to ward off the chill. Adrian’s throat tightened. He'd been so certain Garrett would be awake, a book on his lap and a smirk on his lips as he teased Adrian for worrying over nothing.

Rounding the end of the bed, Adrian shucked his uniform coat and abandoned it on the floor. The scabbard at his belt scraped across the rug as he knelt beside the bed—he'd been in such a hurry to get to Garrett that he'd forgotten to leave it downstairs.

Sitting back on his heels he stared at the face that had become more familiar to him than his own. The breathless tightness in his chest took on a hot ache. Garrett was supposed to be awake. Adrian didn’t dare reach out to touch the dark hair in case it disturbed Garrett, but his whole body ached with the need to hold him, to have him open those incredible eyes and look at him. Grinding the heel of his hand into his eye, he forced himself to his feet. He should find August. Get some real answers.

Adrian fumbled with his belt and finally yanked the scabbard free. He went to lean it against the arm of one of the chairs by the fireplace, only to jerk back as he caught sight of August slumped over with his chin propped on one hand. He was sound asleep, glasses askew and a notebook ready to tumble from his lap. The pen lay on the hearthrug at his feet. Adrian retrieved it and replaced the cap before tucking it into August’s breast pocket. Elsie was going to throw a fit when she saw the inkstain on the rug.

Removing August’s glasses without waking him proved trickier. He twitched and snorted as Adrian unhooked them from behind his ears and pulled them away. Adrian held his breath a moment, watching his brother, but August settled back into the chair and began to snore softly. Adrian turned to set the glasses to one side on the nearby table.

A tray sat there already, piled with a small collection of items he recognised from August’s workroom. The bottle of ammonia spirits and the lidded medicine spoon were hardly a surprise, but why the pocketwatch and thermometer? Adrian reached down to pick up the small tin. Cracking open the lid he blinked in surprise at the long thin needle inside. He’d seen August use this once before, testing for nerve damage before he repaired Garrett’s hands. But what did August want with it now? Adrian glanced over at the bed, but from this angle all he could see of Garrett was a feathering of dark hair across the pillow. He never had gotten around to cutting Garrett’s hair for him.

What was August doing sleeping in here anyway? He’d known that August would be keeping an eye on Garrett—it was the only thing that could have pried him away from Garrett’s side to go serve the warrant on Mrs. Harlan. But he’d thought August would look in on Garrett every so often, not watch over him every minute. Had something happened? Adrian plucked the notebook from August’s lap and flicked through the pages, looking for the most recent. August must have been writing in it when he’d fallen asleep.

The vice around Adrian’s chest tightened until he was barely breathing as he read through the hourly notations. He turned back several pages; August had been up all night checking on Garrett. No wonder he’d fallen asleep now. August never checked on his patients this frequently, and he certainly didn’t stay up all night to do so unless something dire was wrong. August had promised him that Garrett would be fine. That it was nothing serious. If that was truly the case, then this made no sense. He had very little idea what any of the carefully recorded observations signified, but each entry in the notebook looked almost the same as the one before. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? Obviously Adrian wasn’t going to get any truthful answers out of his brother. He’d need to find his own answers, and there was the whole of August’s library waiting downstairs.

The idea to shake August awake and demand some actual answers was quickly discarded. August would only lie to him again. Adrian set the notebook beside the tray and went to fetch a blanket from the drawer. August might be sitting in front of the fire but the breeze from the windows was still bitingly cold. Adrian would deal with his lying later. Right now he wanted answers. After a moment’s thought he picked up the notebook and took it with him.

The library was cool and dim, the fireplace laid but unlit. Late afternoon sun spilling across the floor from the bay window somehow only drew the shadows closer. Adrian turned on the lights and started the fire before turning his attention to the shelves. August had amassed a sizeable collection of medical textbooks over the years. There had to be something here that could help him. He pulled a book at random from the nearest shelf and flicked through the index in search of apoplexia exsanguinea. He had a vague memory of “sanguine” meaning something to do with blood, but that made little sense. Garrett hadn’t been bleeding.

Nothing jumped out at him, so Adrian dropped the book onto a nearby table and cracked open another. The stack of books at his elbow had grown several high before he found the entry he’d been looking for. He flipped the cover shut. _The Principles and Practice of Medicine_. Tucking the book under his arm, Adrian headed for one of the chairs near the fireplace.

Adrian propped the book open on his lap as he ran a finger down the contents page. He paused, looking at the list. Did he really want to know? He swallowed hard and forced himself to take a deep breath. Garrett had made it through so much; they could make it through this too. Adrian just needed to understand what was happening. Taking another deep breath he flipped to the page.

“In like manner adults will sometimes fall into a state of apoplexy from downright exhaustion; and this is called ‘apoplexia exsanguinea.’ … It will be recollected that, in apoplexy, the face is turgid, and more or less livid: but, in this form of the disease, the face is collapsed and pale; and, notwithstanding the pulse may be full.”

Exhaustion sounded plausible to Adrian, especially given what Elsie had told them. Paleness definitely fit. Garrett had been chalk-white just before he’d collapsed. The knot in his stomach eased a fraction. Was there nothing more wrong than exhaustion? He’d warned Garrett over and over not to overtax himself while he was still recovering. The entry went on to say that starvation could also cause the same illness. A week ago he might have worried that was the case, but while Garrett was still painfully thin he wasn’t starving any more. He’d been eating. Adrian had seen the empty plates in his room, and Garrett ate at least one meal with him most days. Had he missed something?

Leaving the book open on his lap he picked up August’s notebook. Seeing Garrett reduced to neatly penned vitals and a symptom checklist made Adrian’s stomach churn. Why was August keeping track of so many things? He’d even been trying to wake Garrett each hour and noting the results. Did August think Garrett was in a coma? That couldn’t be right. He was just … sleeping? Adrian glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Gone half three, already. No matter how exhausted Garrett was, he should have woken by now. Shouldn’t he? None of this made any sense. If it was just exhaustion, then August wouldn’t need to be watching over Garrett so closely. Could it be something else? August had already lied to him about Garrett being fine—had he lied about the rest of it too? If it wasn’t apoplexia exsanguinea, then what was it?

Setting August’s notebook to one side, Adrian turned back to the beginning of the chapter on apoplexy.

“In this intense description of sleep, there is a great diminution (or entire loss) of sense and motion; slow, laborious, and generally stertorous breathing;—a loss, indeed, of all the animal faculties. It is generally sudden …” That sounded more or less right, although he hadn’t noticed Garrett’s breathing seeming particularly laborious. Adrian ran his finger down the central crease, skimming over the text without really reading it.

“… but instead of the face being flushed, full, swollen, or livid, it is pale.”

Wait. What? He glanced back up at the heading. _Seizure commencing with Syncope_.

“Perhaps there is a little delirium, perhaps a wandering; but a sudden pain occurs in the head; the face is pale; the patient feels cold and faint; and there is also vomiting and purging. After this attack of syncope, the patient gets up, and may walk about …” Was that why August had been asking about headaches and nausea? Garrett hadn’t mentioned a headache, and there was no sign he’d been sick. Adrian knew far more than he’d ever want to about how Garrett acted when he was nauseated, and he’d not seen any of that. He shook his head and flipped over the page. There had to be an answer in here somewhere.

Someone—likely August—had underlined several sentences in the paragraph. One in particular struck Adrian like a physical blow.

“He swallows worse and worse, till he cannot swallow at all; the pulse becomes weaker and weaker; the body cooler; respiration quicker, and at length irregular; and thus the scene is closed.”

Adrian’s fingers trembled and he nearly dropped August’s notebook as he snatched it up. A disbelieving numbness settled over him as his gaze flicked from August’s careful notations to the underlined passage, and back again. All those extra things August was monitoring … there. Notes not only on when and how much of the ammonia spirits August had administered, but also whether Garrett had been able to swallow them. That shouldn’t even have been in question. Should it?

Was that why August was keeping such a close eye on Garrett? Because it wasn’t apoplexia exsanguinea but some other kind of apoplexy. Because August was waiting for Garrett to die?

Shuddering, Adrian let the book fall closed and dropped his head into his hand. The vice around his chest tightened until he was gasping for air. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen. August had to be wrong.

“I found him, Master August.” Reginald’s voice had Adrian looking toward the door.

August appeared a moment later, disheveled and blinking owlishly. “Adrian, what are you doing? Why didn’t you wake me when you got home?”

Clutching the book in his hand, Adrian rose to his feet. The vice splintered and broke into a thousand shards that sent heat rocketing through him. He hurled the book at August, who barely managed to duck out of the way. The spine hit Reginald in the chest with a thump and fell to the floor. Fragile pages creased under their own weight.

“You lying sack of shit!” Adrian managed to grate out.

August stared down at the book. He crouched to retrieve it and carefully flattened out the pages before looking up. “What the hell has got into you?”

“When were you going to tell me? When!?” Adrian shouted, fists clenched tight at his side.

“Adrian, calm down. What are you talking about?”

“Garrett!” Adrian grabbed up the closest book and lobbed it. August yelped as it glanced off his shoulder. “Tell me to calm down again and the next one goes in the fire.”

“Alright! Just please stop throwing things.” August glared while rubbing his shoulder.

“How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” Jerking the notebook up off the table he shook it. August flinched, hands half-raised as if he expected it to come flying at him as well. “Until I woke up to find him cold and stiff?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“Then when?” Two swift strides and he had August by the arms. “You’ve lied to me this whole time!”

August’s bloodshot eyes were wide behind his glasses as he stared up at Adrian. “I-I was just—”

“What? And if you give me some drivel about protecting me, or—or something, I … I swear I’ll knock you down.”

A hand planted against his chest and shoved. Adrian staggered back a pace as Reginald stepped in front of August. “I think that is enough, Master Adrian. The situation is regrettable but there is no need to threaten violence.”

“Regrettable is right,” Adrian snapped. He turned his attention to August who had retreated toward the door, angling to keep the other chair in between them. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Why couldn’t you just tell me from the outset?”

“Adrian, you were hysterical. I had to put laudanum in your tea so you would calm down. What choice did I have?”

Adrian clenched his teeth and shook his head but couldn’t find any words to say. Lashing out at August wasn’t going to change anything. It certainly wasn’t going to help Garrett. He turned his back on them and stalked over to his chair. Leaning against the back of the headrest, he dug his fingers into the padding until his knuckles creaked. He wanted a drink. Something—anything—to numb this searing pain in his chest.

“I want the truth, August. What is wrong with Garrett?”

Reginald bent his head toward August to whisper urgently to him. Adrian glared at them both, sorely tempted to hurl another book at his brother. How could he take care of Garrett if August wouldn’t even tell him what was wrong?

The soft cough had his head snapping up. August stood at his elbow, arms folded and a book in his hands. Adrian glanced over to Reginald, who hovered a few steps away with a resigned grimace on his face. Just what did he expect Adrian to do? The silence stretched out long enough Adrian’s fingers started itching. He dug them harder into the back of the chair to stop himself grabbing hold of August, wanting to shake him until he talked.

“I’ll admit, Garrett’s reclusive nature makes it hard to know exactly what’s wrong. He can’t talk, or won’t talk, about any symptoms he experiences. At first I thought it might be apoplexia exsanguinea, given his recent state of health, and especially since you said he collapsed in much the same way on the voyage home. But what you said of how he was acting when you found him leads me to suspect something else, potentially more serious.”

August thrust his book between them like a shield. “If you were reading this, you’ll know why I’m treating it as ingravescent apoplexy.”

“As what? What is that?” A chill shot through him. If he hadn’t already been clutching the chair he would have stumbled. “That’s not what you told me before.”

August looked down at the book in his hands and started flipping through the pages. It was the first one Adrian had picked out: _The Principles and Practices of Medicine_.

“This book doesn’t call it that. The authors often use their own terms to describe the same thing. Elliotson calls it … seizure commencing with syncope.” August held the book out, tapping his finger against the heading. “The apoplectic seizure came on at dinner, but from what you told me, he’d already taken ill sometime well before you got home. If you’d read this, you’d know that all Garrett’s symptoms fit. The paleness, the wandering about—you yourself said he was acting strangely, even for him.”

Adrian finally looked down at the book. “I did read that, and no. Not all of them. This says a ‘sharp, cutting, severe pain,’ But I couldn’t feel anything like that from the Primal. I'd have felt it if he'd had a headache that bad.”

“Wait. You can feel things from him through the Primal?”

“Yes. It’s happened before, but only if he’s … feeling something very strongly, or in pain.” Seeing the skeptical expression Adrian went on in a rush. “August, I'm sure of it. You don't know that something happened earlier. You're just assuming.”

“Assuming, yes. But for good reason. There has to be something to explain how he acted when you got home.”

“Elsie said he hadn't slept. He'd have been dead on his feet …” Adrian trailed off as the words struck a little too close to home.

“That wouldn't be enough. If he was exhausted then he’d have gone to bed. Something must have happened, soon after you left yesterday morning and bad enough to keep him up all day. And there’s the bruising you found. That had to come from somewhere.”

“But—”

“If you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine. If you think you can diagnose him after reading only a few pages of a book then, by all means, go ahead. In fact, why stop at one?” August set the book on the table beside the chair and stepped over to the bookcase. He pulled another off the shelf and held it out. “Here, read this one as well.”

Adrian looked down at the book. A medical dictionary, almost as thick as it was tall, bound with faded leather worn thin at the corners. “You’re not serious?”

August narrowed his eyes and shook the dictionary at him. “Go on. Look it up and tell me what you think is wrong. I’d start with apoplexy. A-P-O—”

“I know how to spell it!” Adrian snatched up the dictionary and thumbed through it. He found the entry for apoplexy on page seventy-nine. His determination to prove August wrong wavered as he looked at the twin columns of small type. He flipped further ahead looking for the end of the definition. Page one-hundred-seven. He’d need all evening to read through all of this. He knew he was right, though, and if he had to read all of this just to prove August wrong, he would. Garrett was not dying. He refused to believe that.

“I’ll be interested to hear what you conclude.” August’s frigid tone had Adrian wincing. It wasn’t often he lost his temper, but he tended to get out of hand when he did. He didn’t feel like apologizing just yet. August shouldn’t have lied to him.

“Leave me alone.”

“Gladly.”

Reginald ushered August out of the room. He shot a final disapproving glare at Adrian before the door thudded closed behind them. The sound of their footsteps faded to silence, broken only by occasional crackling from the coals in the grate. Adrian looked down at the dictionary again as the anger bled away to a sick hollowness. What if August was right? The weight in his chest threatened to drag him to the floor. Instead, he lumbered over to the chair and collapsed into it. He stared down at the book in his lap for a long moment. August was smart, but he didn’t know everything. He might have missed something. Maybe August was overreacting? Adrian clung to the thought as he started reading.

“There are few diseases which present a greater variety of modes of attack, or which depend upon a greater number of lesions of the organ affected, than that now under consideration. Its sources, modes of manifestation, and morbid relations are numerous, and many of them difficult of investigation.”

If even the medical dictionary said it was hard to diagnose, maybe he shouldn’t have been so hard on August. August still shouldn’t have lied to him. By the end of the first column the words were starting to run together and he swore he was going to go cross-eyed—well cross- _eye_ —looking at the small type. Diagnosis, that’s what he wanted, not a lengthy discourse on classifications. He started skimming through the entry, paying little attention to more than just section headings.

“Apoplexy is, in general, readily recognised: but it may occur in such a way and under circumstances which will render its diagnosis a matter of difficulty.” Adrian groaned under his breath, trying to ignore the prickle of guilt. “… is the patient in a state of dead drunkenness, asphyxied, poisoned by narcotics, or affected with the profound coma consequent upon epileptic or hysteric convulsions?”

None of that was even remotely possible.

“Is it concussion of the brain; the advanced effects of organic disease within the head—as of cysts, abscess, or of inflammation terminating in effusion; or fever, either at its commencement or close with apoplectic symptoms?”

A concussion might be possible if Garrett had fallen earlier during the day, but shouldn’t that have meant Adrian would have found him unconscious in the attic? He’d seen no sign of a head injury while washing Garrett’s hair for him. And none of it fit with how suddenly everything had gone wrong. He’d been worried sick over Garrett’s odd behavior, but even so he’d been caught completely by surprise when Garrett collapsed. Even August had seemed startled. Adrian cursed under his breath and shifted in the chair, trying to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. Part of him didn’t want to read any further, didn’t want to face knowing. There had to be something he could do to help Garrett. But if it wasn’t any of the other possibilities mentioned in the book, then August had to be right.

Adrian laid his head back against the chair and shut his eye, hoping to ease the growing ache at his temples. What had August called it? Ingravescent apoplexy. But what did that mean? He’d been reading about apoplexia exsanguinea before August had come in, but how were they different? He drew in a deep breath, held it and then let it out. He’d only know if he found out for himself. August wasn’t likely to explain anything to him after losing his temper like that. He’d had it coming; August shouldn’t have lied.

Opening his eye, Adrian forced himself to focus on the cramped text. He had a feeling he’d seen the term when skimming through. The section was long—several pages long. _The Gradually Increasing or Ingravescent Apoplexy_. Much of it was familiar from the first book: headache, paleness, sickness, vomiting. None of which he’d seen when he found Garrett. But August had thought it important he read this. There had to be something he was missing.

“Sometimes the patient sinks down from its severity, pale, faint and exhausted; and experiences a slight convulsion, but recovers from this state in a short time. This invading and slighter attack generally soon abates, or some of the symptoms subside, and others continue in various degrees or differently modified. Coldness, paleness and faintness are complained of … the patient feels depressed, but sensible.”

Adrian jerked upright in the chair, his grip tightening around the book. All he’d seen was Garrett unsteady and lethargic—he’d found him too late, long after the invading attack had already subsided. Garrett had definitely been paler than usual, and obviously exhausted. Reluctantly Adrian admitted to himself that Garrett would likely have hidden any evidence of having been ill earlier. The mess in his bathroom—the bathtub full of water, the sopping wet clothes abandoned on the floor. All of it pointed to Garrett trying to clean up after himself. Had he been shivering at the open attic window in case he was sick again? Why hadn’t he said anything? August could have helped him.

But a headache so severe, bad enough Garrett had collapsed, had to be something Adrian would have felt. Wouldn’t he? He had no idea how their seeming link through the Primal worked. Did Garrett have to be touching him? Did proximity make a difference? Had he been too far away to feel anything? How far was too far?

Adrian rubbed his fingers over his forehead. There was just too much he didn’t know and wasn’t sure of. They could have figured some of this out together, if only Garrett trusted him more. Trusted him enough to be honest about things, especially with something so important as his health. Adrian had already had to watch him nearly die. Several times. He couldn’t bear to do it again.

“The oppression increases rapidly; he answers questions slowly and heavily, and at last sinks into a state of profound stupor or coma. The period which elapses from the invading attack, to the continued and perfect coma, varies from less than an hour to three days.”

“This is the most fatal form of apoplexy, very few recovering from it.”

_On inspection after death, extensive extravasation of blood … Dissection—_

The words blurred and ran together. Adrian slammed the book shut, taking deep shuddering breaths. He barely registered getting to his feet. The book tumbled from numb fingers. He lurched to the mantelpiece and clutched at it with both hands, his head hanging. This was not happening. It was not. It was fucking not! But everything fit.

The image of Garrett filled his vision, grey and lifeless and under a sheet in August’s workroom. Knowing that Garrett might never wake, never open his eyes again, that Adrian wouldn’t even get to thank him for the sacrifices he’d made, crushed the air from his lungs.

“No!” The mirror splintered. The next blow shattered it. He kept hitting it until someone grabbed his arm and pulled him away. His throat was raw, and only then did he realize he’d been screaming.

He was vaguely aware of someone grasping his shoulders and shaking him, but he couldn’t see anything. Vision too blurred by tears. His head hurt. His hand hurt. His heart hurt. Everything hurt.

“Master Adrian, calm yourself!”

Adrian sank to his knees and curled in on himself. He’d have to watch someone he loved fade away and die. Yet again. He shouldn’t have sent Garrett on that job. What if he’d made everything worse? What if it was his fault Garrett was dying? It would be his fault all over again. He’d killed Rylan and now he’d killed Garrett.

“No, Adrian. No. It is not your fault. Look at me. Ri, please. I didn’t mean to upset you like this. Please look at me.”

Adrian shook his head, the most he could manage through the shudders wracking him.

“Reggie, get my bag. He’s cut himself rather badly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Adrian, you have to calm down. This isn’t going to help Garrett.”

Gentle fingers smoothed the hair back from his face and brushed away the tears from his cheeks. He managed to take a few deeper breaths, though the room still spun around him.

“I’m so sorry, Ri. I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. I knew you’d be upset and I didn’t want that, but it was inevitable.”

Inevitable? Something about that sparked a memory. It was similar to what Valériane had said in the cave. That there was nothing she could do. They’d been far out of reach of modern medicine, but Garrett had pulled through. He’d said that the Primal had brought him back. Something Adrian had done with the Primal had kept Garrett from dying. All he remembered doing was grasping the Primal thread linking Garrett to himself and holding on for all he was worth. But there were no threads this time. He’d not seen any hint of them since. How could he hold onto something he couldn’t even see? What was he supposed to do?

Needling pain in his hand dragged his attention back to himself. He cracked his eyes open, pressing a hand to his temple as his head throbbed. The knuckles of his left hand were raw and covered in blood that glittered in the firelight. August knelt beside him, wielding a bottle of alcohol which he poured over Adrian’s knuckles and into a bowl Reginald held out for him. Each splash sent a sharp lance of pain up his arm, clearing the mental fog a fraction more. August was right. He wasn’t helping Garrett like this.

“Let me sit in the chair.”

August said nothing, but sat back on his heels while Adrian clambered to his feet and wobbled over to the nearest chair. Collapsing into the seat, he leaned down to scoop up the book from where it had fallen to the floor. He fumbled at it for a moment before August retrieved it for him.

“Adrian, I truly am sorry.”

Adrian shook his head. He held out his hand for August to finish patching him up. They could worry about apologies later. First, he needed to understand for himself what was happening.

“This says—” His voice faltered and broke. He coughed and tried to swallow back the thickness in his throat before trying again, keeping his gaze firmly on the book in his lap. “The premonitory signs—the nightmares, sleeping at unusual times, lethargy … is that why you were asking me about how he’d been acting?”

August leaned forward, ducking his head until they were eye to eye. “Yes. If there is anything else you can tell me, anything at all that would rule out—”

“That’s just the thing. I can’t. I wish … I wish I’d said something sooner. I should have never … never let him go on that job,” he finished in a husky whisper as his throat threatened to close on the words.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Adrian.”

“But I should have noticed something was wrong! I was worried when I found him in the attic and he was acting so strange. Just like it says here: dullness of hearing, unsteadiness, tripping on stairs. I should have brought him straight to you. After what happened at the cave—” Adrian hissed and clenched his teeth as August used a rag to start patting his hand dry. “What happened then looked so similar. He was using the Primal and something went wrong. He collapsed … Valériane said he was dying. He … that part you marked in the other book, about the signs when someone … He looked just like— It was the same, August, just like in the book. Could the Primal have caused this too?”

August placed the now bloody rag on the tray next to the bottle of alcohol. He braced his hands against his knees and climbed to his feet. “I don’t know. It certainly costs him a lot to use it from what I’ve seen. It’s possible.”

“What about this?” Adrian tilted the book up as he read aloud. “‘An attack often, however, continues for a much longer time, generally from several hours to as many days. If no remission of the symptoms be observed after twenty-four hours, the disease generally terminates unfavourably. The progressive or ingravescent variety sometimes continues for several days; the apoplectic state becoming more and more profound; and usually ending fatally.’ Is this why you’ve been testing how deep the coma is?”

“Yes. It’s not yet been twenty-four hours.” August didn’t sound overly hopeful as he picked up needle and thread. “And he’s been swallowing the restorative just fine. There isn’t reason to give up just yet.”

As August started cleaning and sewing up the worst of the cuts, Adrian turned his attention back to the text.

“… the attack may end as now stated, or it may go off completely, leaving no further ill effects than a tendency to recur upon the action of the remote causes. This favourable termination, however, is entirely owing to the nature of the causes; a larger proportion of cases either terminates in, or is accompanied with, paralysis.”

Adrian let out a shaky breath as something fluttered low down in his stomach. Garrett might still be alright. However unlikely, there was still a chance. He shied away from the image of Garrett paralyzed and unable to do what he loved best. Garrett would be heartbroken. But he’d be alive.

“If Garrett recovers he’s going to be paralyzed? Is that why you have the needle?”

“Yes, and he seems fine as far as that goes.” August cut away the final thread and set down his needle on the tray.

“As far as that goes,” Adrian echoed dully. “How did I miss the signs? He was so sick on the ship and he’s been through so much. I thought … I hoped that being home would help him regain his strength. I thought it had. He’s been eating better and everything. This all started the night he came home frozen stiff. Something seemed off then—he was upset about something, but he wouldn’t talk to me … I don’t understand what happened. Is this the Primal making him sick? Was it the torture Rozzen put him through? I tried so hard to protect him, August. I really did.”

The tears welled up again and he barely registered the gentle grip on his wrist. He dragged the back of his free hand across his cheek but they came faster than he could wipe them away. A handkerchief materialised on the edges of his vision and he grabbed for it.

“I know you did, Adrian. He knows it too. This isn’t something you could have protected him from.” August wrapped a bandage around Adrian’s hand and tied the ends off around his wrist.

“I could have stopped him from healing my ribs. You saw how he collapsed afterwards. I could have done my damn job and found that evidence myself instead of sending him to steal it for me. I should have taken better care of him. I should have …” What? Garrett still wouldn’t have told him anything was wrong. He couldn’t do anything to help if Garrett refused to admit needing it. ‘Fine’ was the only answer Adrian would ever get, even when ‘fine’ was anything but the truth. After everything they’d been through together why couldn’t Garrett trust him? Had he hurt or upset Garrett without realizing it? Or was he too clingy and pushy? He’d promised himself he’d never try to change or control Garrett, but had Basso been right? Was he being manipulative in wanting Garrett to confide in him? Was that why Garrett couldn’t talk to him?

The grip on his wrist loosened and August patted his shoulder. “You are one of the most caring people I know. But Garrett’s a grown man, and you couldn’t have forced him to seek help if he didn’t want to. No matter how much you loved him and wanted the best for him, he was going to make his own decisions. Even if it meant us losing him.”

Adrian lowered his head and buried his face in his hands, hissing as the movement pulled at the stitches across his knuckles. “Please don’t talk like he’s already gone. I can’t—just … please don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Adrian nodded and let his hands fall into his lap. “Can I try something with the Primal? It won’t require anything more than me just sitting beside him and holding his hand. Before … in the cave, when he was … he said that it pulled him back.”

The skeptical look was back but August finally nodded. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but at this point it couldn’t possibly hurt.”

Adrian set the book to the side and got to his feet, his whole body numb and heavy as if moving through deep water. The stinging in his knuckles slowly faded to a dull heat, bearable as long as he was careful not to move his fingers. He stepped forward and pulled August into a hug. “Thank you. I’m sorry about earlier … and the mirror.”

August hugged him back. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you. Now please go. See if you can work some magic on our little friend.”

Reginald met them in the hall as they exited the library. Morgan followed a pace behind, carrying a large hatbox tucked under his arm.

“Master August, I am afraid he insisted.”

“It’s fine, Reginald. What can I help you with, Captain?”

Morgan nodded to them both and held out the box. “We finished securing all the items from the Harlan residence. However, the men found this hiding in one of the wagons.”

“A hatbox?” August looked to Adrian who shrugged.

“Er, no. What’s inside. I think it’s Mrs. Harlan’s cat,” Morgan corrected. The box jerked as something rammed against the inside.

“Ferdinand stowed away in one of the wagons?” Adrian almost flinched in surprise at the sound of his own laugh. The heavy tightness lodging in his throat choked him to the point even the thought of laughter felt unnatural.

“It seems so. Are you alright, Adrian? You look rather flushed. And when did you get hurt? Your hand wasn’t bandaged before.” Morgan nodded to Adrian’s hand, shifting his grip on the box as Ferdinand wriggled again. A mournful wail started up, punctuated by frantic scrabbling at the underside of the lid.

“Oh, umm …”

“Actually, I will explain things, Captain. Adrian, you go on upstairs and tend to things.” August took the hatbox from Morgan and gestured for him to follow. “The cat can come with us.”

Unsure and half fearful of what he might find, Adrian stumbled up the stairs. He hesitated before pushing open the bedroom door. Was he too late? Had Garrett already faded away while Adrian was downstairs reading? Elsie sat in the chair August had slept in earlier, her hands twisted in her apron as she kept watch over Garrett. She dipped her head to acknowledge Adrian as she rose to her feet, but said nothing, instead briefly laying her hand on his arm as she passed him and slipped out of the room.

His room was cold enough to make him shiver and he debated closing the windows. No. He’d leave things as August thought they needed to be. There had to be a reason for August to open them, and if Garrett needed them open then Adrian didn’t dare mess with them. He did add another scoop of coals to the fire before pulling the chair over to the bedside. It was impossible to say whether Garrett had moved or not, buried as he was under several layers of blankets.

A gust of wind through the open window made him shiver. Maybe he should get a blanket for himself. He tugged open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. There was only one left. Hardly surprising. Most of them were already on the bed with Garrett. He picked up the blanket to shake it out, and paused, seeing the cloth pouch newly exposed in the bottom of the drawer. Was this something of Garrett’s? He picked it up and carefully untied the drawstring. The soft blue glow from within startled him. What was this?

Adrian pulled the metal and glass cylinder from the bag and held it up to the light. The blue glow from within seemed to pulse gently as he held it. For a moment it felt almost warm in his hands, the slightest tingle at the tips of his fingers. After a moment the sensation faded and the light dimmed a fraction, though he couldn’t be certain. It had to be something Garrett had stolen for a client. Turning toward the bed Adrian set it on the nightstand. It would almost be a shame for Garrett to have to give up something so unique and pretty. If this worked it would be waiting for Garrett when he woke.

It had to work.

He sat in the chair and drew the blanket around his shoulders. Garrett still lay curled on his side, exactly how Adrian had arranged him when he’d carried him to bed last night. He didn’t seem to have moved at all. Taking a small breath, Adrian slipped his hand under the covers until he found Garrett’s fingers. He gave them a light squeeze. There was no response. Swallowing back the constriction in his throat, he let his head drop forward and closed his eyes, and tried to think past the ache hollowing him through. He had to remember what he’d done in the cave. How it had felt.

Keeping his eyes closed he gingerly reached his bandaged left hand under the blanket until he had Garrett’s hand clasped between his own. The cave had been dark, and still, only Nathaniel left behind to keep vigil with him. He still vividly remembered sitting slumped against the cave wall, the chill of the stones at his back slowly seeping through him to mingle with the chill at his core as Garrett faded in his arms. Here, too, frigid air spilled in through the windows to swirl about his feet, the blanket wrapped around him woefully inadequate against the creeping chill. The rosy orange glow of the fire threw grotesque shadows across walls and ceiling, the gaslamps doing little to dispel the encroaching gloom.

_Think of Garrett. Find the thread._

Garrett’s thread had been the brightest, a mesmerizing, shimmering blue that became almost white at times. Like Garrett’s eye. Those beautiful eyes that had captivated him from the very first moment he’d seen Garrett. Eyes that he was desperate to see open once more.

 _Concentrate_.

Pushing aside the memories, Adrian focused on trying to sense the thread of the Primal that stretched from himself to Garrett. He knew it was there. He’d seen it. Felt it. But could he use it on his own? He had to. They were out of options. If August was right—and it looked more and more like he was—then this was the only way he had left to save Garrett’s life.

_Concentrate. Dammit!_

It began first as a dull glow behind his closed eyelid. A pale bluish-white that flickered at the edges, a sputtering candle flame ready to go out. Adrian opened his eye. It was still there. A slender blue thread emerged from his chest, tracing a shallow arc through the air between them before it disappeared into the blankets. He didn’t grab for it like he had in the cave. Instead he imagined gently grasping it, almost cradling it, in his hands.

There was no searing pain this time. Only a tremulous drone, almost like the hum of a lightbulb. And a gentle tugging sensation, almost imperceptible. He focused on that. What had Garrett said? That he’d used the thread to pull himself out? Did that mean Adrian should just hold on and hope Garrett was somehow aware of him at the other end? Should he try to push energy into Garrett? How did that even work? He could see the thread, but nothing else. Garrett had spoken once of the Primal energy feeling like an overheated boiler, but Adrian couldn’t feel anything. How could he even know whether it was working if he couldn’t feel it?

He tried for a soft nudge. The thread flared for a moment, then settled back to a pale glow. There was no response from Garrett, not even a flicker of his eyelids.

Next he tried for a more sustained press of energy. There was no flare this time, but the thread did grow a little brighter. He kept at it until he was shaking with the effort. Needles of pain shot through his temples and down the back of his neck. Garrett hadn’t so much as twitched.

Ignoring the pain, he tried again. It had to work. It had to.

The glow wavered and faded as his hold on the thread faltered.

“No. Please.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the thread back into existence. Trying to pour energy he couldn’t sense into something he could no longer see. Ice water ran through his veins and the air ran thin through his lungs. Pressure built within his head, growing tighter and sharper and colder and—

He pitched forward, catching himself at the last moment against the armrests. He gasped for air, his head pounding. He wasn’t strong enough to wield the Primal the way Garrett could. It refused to respond to him like it yielded for Garrett. There was nothing he could do.

With a whimper he slumped forward out of the chair until he knelt beside the bed with his head resting on the mattress beside Garrett’s. The blanket had fallen from his shoulders, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He clung to the warmth of Garrett’s hand, nestled between his palms like a lifeline for them both.

“I’m so sorry. I tried.” The words dissolved into broken sobs.

At some point someone came in and mentioned dinner. He ignored them. Just the thought of eating turned his stomach. He couldn’t leave Garrett. Not now. He felt the blanket being draped back over him, but barely noticed its warmth.

The clock was striking seven when he finally raised his head. Twenty-four hours. A full day gone since Garrett collapsed. Adrian searched Garrett’s face for any sign of awareness, his grip tightening around the slender hand clutched between his own. There was no response.

The lamps had been put out, casting the room into a patchwork of dim shadows. The second fireside chair was barely more than a silhouette against the fire still crackling in the hearth, a profile of head and shoulder just visible. Likely Reginald. August had to be exhausted after staying up all last night. A tray of tea sat on his desk, but just looking at it had the tears welling up again. Only a few days ago he’d sat by the fire with Garrett and watched him eat gingerbread and drink tea.

Swallowing against the thick lump in his throat, Adrian levered himself to his feet. The Primal hadn’t worked. There was nothing to be done now. He wanted to hold Garrett one last time before …

He couldn’t even think it. Numb and hollow, he shuffled around the foot of the bed and climbed in on his customary side. Garrett was warm, his breathing deep and even as he lay curled under the covers. Adrian tugged away the line of pillows propping Garrett onto his side, and claimed one for himself. Slowly, carefully, he rolled Garrett toward himself until Garrett’s head came to rest on his outstretched arm. He curled himself around Garrett and pulled him close, cradling the dark head to his chest. There was nothing more he could do, but he could do this. Garrett had liked hearing Adrian’s heartbeat.

_Please. Please don’t leave me. I won’t know what to do without you. You’re too strong to let this take you now._


	23. Chapter 23

Adrian flinched awake, unsure what had disturbed him. Cold dread flooded him as he silently begged Garrett to breathe. Despite himself he’d fallen asleep several times during the night only to start awake, each time terrified to move until the slight rise under his hand reassured him Garrett still lived. Tears pricked behind his eye. He blinked the grit away and took a slow, shuddering breath. Burying his face in Garrett’s hair he lay still, just listening to the crackle of the fire and the harsh chatter of the crows roosting outside. He didn’t want to face the day and what it might bring. He couldn’t.

The bed shifted and Adrian’s lungs seized, his arms tightening around Garrett. Was this it? Had August come to take Garrett away? He’d still been alive the last time August examined him. Had an hour passed already? It felt like only a few moments had gone since August set the notebook down and slipped out of the room. Forcing himself to take a breath, Adrian opened his eye.

A chill breeze gusted through the open windows and billowed the curtains. Sunlight glowed on the roof tiles of the house across the alley. Sunlight? Already? He glanced around as best he could without moving but aside from Reginald’s snoring bulk by the fire, the bedroom was empty. No sign of August. Garrett still lay beside him, head pillowed on Adrian’s outstretched arm. With his left hand Adrian reached up to run his finger lightly down Garrett’s nose. Would it be his final chance?

Warm fingers curled around his wrist and pushed his hand away.

“Don’t.”

There was no way the sleepy murmur belonged to August. Petrified it was nothing more than another dream, Adrian didn’t dare so much as twitch as Garrett rolled his head to the side and looked up at him. Each languid blink had Adrian’s heart jerking in his chest. The loose grip on Adrian’s wrist disappeared and Garrett rubbed a hand across his eyes. Weak and shivery, Adrian eased his arm free until his palm cradled the back of Garrett’s head. He raised himself up on his elbow so he could get a better look.

“You’re alive.” He could barely choke out the words.

“And you look half dead. Are you getting sick?” Garrett’s voice was a rasping whisper, but nothing had ever sounded sweeter. Adrian tried, and failed, to swallow the lump in his throat. He shook his head and dropped it against Garrett’s shoulder. The sick, helpless pressure in his chest finally bled away. He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t move. He needed to just stay here until he was certain this wasn’t a dream.

 

Bewildered, Garrett stared up at the ceiling as Adrian sobbed into his shoulder. The Primal oscillated wildly through a range of colors he’d never seen before. Most seemed to be coming from Adrian. What had upset him?

Tentatively, unsure quite how to help, Garrett reached up to lay his hand on Adrian’s head. That only seemed to make him cry harder but Garrett didn’t dare pull his hand away again, wary of making everything worse. It could only have been a few minutes, but it felt like forever before the tears slowed.

“You woke up.”

Garrett’s fingers clenched in Adrian’s hair at the broken whisper. An uneasy tremor ran through him. Something was wrong. Badly wrong.

His shoulder and the corner of the pillow were sopping wet by the time Adrian finally raised his head. Garrett went to sit up only to have Adrian place a hand on his chest.

“No. Wait until August comes in.”

Adrian’s worry reared up full-force, sharp enough it was a knife to the gut. What was going on? What had Adrian so worked up and what had he meant by ‘you woke up?’ He’d dropped Adrian’s soap. He remembered that much, but little beyond. Cold. Biting, clawing cold, and dust in his eyes and mouth. Adrian’s solid, steady grip around his waist. Gentle rumbling laughter at something he’d said. And then … nothing but fog.

A bitterly cold breeze had him looking to the window Adrian always left cracked open for him. It was propped wide open. As were the windows over Adrian’s desk. Why? Adrian kept his bedroom colder than Garrett preferred, if he were honest, but even Adrian would balk at ice in the water glass. One of the fireside chairs had been dragged over beside the bed, a blanket lying discarded over the back. It reminded him of how in the first few days after they got home, each time he woke he’d found Adrian sitting watch over him, sketchbook propped on one knee.

Something had quite obviously happened, and the way Adrian was acting it had to do with himself. The worry and relief streaking across the Primal were unmistakable, though Garrett couldn’t be certain what the other emotions were. Something more complex, and deeper than just relief. But why was Adrian so relieved?

“Reginald. Reginald!” Adrian called.

The snoring cut off with a snort. “Yes, sir.”

“Get August. Quickly.”

“Yes, sir. Is everything alright?”

“Garrett is awake.”

“Oh! Yes. Right away.”

Garrett craned his head around Adrian’s arm. He caught a glimpse of Reginald levering himself out of the chair near the fireplace before Adrian gently pushed him back down. Why was Reginald sleeping in Adrian’s room? Reginald had a perfectly good room of his own just down the hall. Trying to untangle himself he shoved at the blankets, but couldn’t find any leverage as Adrian pulled him close and wrapped an arm around him.

“Adrian? What is going on?”

Adrian’s smile trembled at the edges. “How are you feeling? Do you have a headache? Do you feel nauseous?”

“No, but I would like to get out of bed.”

Adrian shook his head. “Not until August sees you.”

“Why does that matter? I’m not hurt.” Garrett started to sit up again but Adrian’s arm only tightened, pinning him flat. The convulsive grip at the back of his head and across his chest bore little resemblance to the warm and easy affection he’d come to trust and rely on. Unease welled up in his throat to mingle with the worry leaching through the Primal until it sucked all the air out of the room. The blankets felt suddenly too hot, too heavy. Suffocating. The room slowly lilted sideways as he fought the urge to struggle.

“Please lie still.”

Garrett froze at the desperate note in Adrian’s voice. Swallowing back the heat he forced himself to relax. He was safe; he was with Adrian. He was home. He peered up at Adrian, concern pinching at him at the sight of the swollen and bloodshot eye. More than that—Adrian looked haggard. Dark circles beneath eye and socket contrasted with the almost grey pallor of his skin. No eyepatch covered his missing eye or the scars, just tangled strands of sweat-damp hair plastered to his cheek. Garrett’s fingers itched to brush them away. He clenched his fingers in the sheet to stop himself from reaching up and upsetting Adrian even worse than he already had.

“Adrian, it’s alright. I’m fine.”

Adrian jerked his head from side to side as he took several stuttering breaths. His voice trembled when he spoke. “Please, don’t … you—you collapsed at dinner.”

“At dinner? Last night?”

“No. Monday night. It’s Wednesday morning. You’ve been in a coma. We thought you were dying.”

Garrett stared at Adrian for a long moment. Wednesday morning? None of this was making any sense. He’d been exhausted, but still … he couldn’t have lost a full day. He felt fine. Still tired, though, now that he thought about it. The same bone-deep weariness that had dogged him ever since the voyage home. The weight of so many blankets was stifling, pressing down on him until he ached. Everything felt stiff, dull pain radiating from his right hip and shoulder. He really wanted to get out of the bed and stretch limbs that felt as though they hadn’t moved in some time.

“Dying? Of what?”

“Any number of things! The Primal. Exhaustion. Bleeding … inside your head.” Adrian broke off as his voice cracked. He let out a shuddering breath, the gold and green gaze pleading as he continued. “It looked just like in the cave when Lucien nearly killed you. Or Amaury, on the ship. You acted so strangely when I got home and then at dinner, a-after you ... we couldn’t rouse you. If you felt so poorly why didn’t you say something?”

Any words Garrett might have mustered died on his tongue before he could open his mouth. Garrett stared up at Adrian. Picking through the scattered fragments left from last night—no, from Monday night—offered up no answers. He vaguely remembered Adrian joining him at the attic window. The surge of relief at seeing Adrian finally home had left him shaking and giddy. Adrian would have noticed. He always noticed. Adrian would have said something, though anything more had faded to a hazy blur. But he’d just been … tired? Hadn’t he? How could he reassure Adrian or explain himself if he couldn’t even remember what had happened?

Adrian closed his eye and let his head hang. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to harass you.”

The worry flooding the Primal greyed out to resignation, eating away at the gold until nothing remained but a dull murky glow that twisted the knife in Garrett’s gut. He caught himself reaching up again, wanting to brush aside the matted blond curtain hiding Adrian’s face. Instead he curled his fingers tighter in the sheet. Adrian wanted him to keep still. He stared up at the wood paneled ceiling, searching for any hint of what he was doing wrong. There had to be something he could do or say that would help. Silence fell. The cries of the costermonger on the street outside seemed almost deafening against the somber quiet.

The door squeaked open and a rumpled August walked in, Reginald in tow. August’s eyes widened behind his glasses, as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed what he was seeing. He retrieved something from the table near the fireplace before making his way over to the bed. Pen, notebook and pocketwatch were set on the nightstand as August seated himself in the chair and leaned over Garrett.

“Garrett, can you open your mouth for me?” August’s voice was low and indistinct, still muzzy with sleep.

Garrett tore his gaze from Adrian. “What?”

“I need to check your temperature. Please open your mouth.”

Dazed and uncertain, Garrett did as asked. The slim glass thermometer was cold and he resisted biting down on it. He wanted to ask August why everyone was acting so strangely, but it would have to wait for now.

“Look at me. I’m just going to examine your eyes,” August murmured as he laid a thumb on Garrett’s cheek just below his left eye.

Garrett tried to comply, but Adrian still had hold of his head. He settled for watching August out of the corner of his eye and hoped it would suffice.

“Adrian, let him go.”

Garrett hissed softly as Adrian only gripped him harder. It was starting to hurt but he was careful to remain limp. “Adrian, it’s alright. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

A long moment passed before Adrian’s arm loosened and fell away. He tugged the pillow down to better support Garrett’s head before sliding his hand free and climbing out of the bed. Garrett watched him plod to his desk chair and collapse into it, broad shoulders slumped and head down. Still fully dressed except for his coat and boots, he looked like he’d just come from work.

Garrett couldn’t help pressing his head back into the pillow as August leaned over him to peer closely at his eyes. It was a relief when August finally turned away to write something in the notebook lying open on the nightstand. He fought back the instinct to pull away as August took up the pocketwatch and pressed two fingers firmly against the side of his throat. More scribbling in the notebook.

Eyebrows pinched together August pulled the corner of the blankets back. Garrett flinched as the cold air hit him. Just how cold was it in here? He yelped and jerked his arm away as August pinched at the skin on the back of his right hand. August ignored the glare. Pulling the blankets away he leaned over Garrett to do the same to his left while Garrett debated the consequences of kicking August in the leg. He was already shivering, vest and shirtsleeves no defense against the bitter draft spilling in through the open window.

The sharp pinch at his ankle had him spitting out the thermometer and drawing up both his knees. “Is that really necessary?”

August raised his eyebrows. “Apparently not.”

He retrieved the thermometer and held it out. Garrett shook his head and sat up, rubbing at his arms in a futile attempt to keep warm. He knew himself well enough to know when he was sick and he felt fine. Restless, even. And hungry.

“I’m afraid I cannot let you out of bed until I’m certain you aren’t feverish.” August placed a warm hand on Garrett’s shoulder and pressed him flat. The blankets were drawn up nearly to his chin. “And as soon as I’m certain the symptoms have disappeared.”

“Symptoms of what? I’m fine.” Garrett shoved the blankets back down so that his arms were free.

August scowled but didn’t move to fix the blankets. “You fell into a coma and have been insensible for a day and a half. By all accounts you suffered an attack of ingravescent apoplexy. Or did you think I normally keep all the windows open in the middle of winter? You are _not fine_. You have extravasated blood pressing on your brain, and if we can’t control the swelling you could very well end up comatose again.”

The thermometer was shoved into his hand. “I expect to see that in your mouth when I return.”

Garrett stared after August as he walked over to the chair where Adrian slumped. He knelt, laying a hand on Adrian’s knee, and leaned close, murmuring too quietly for Garrett to make out the words. Adrian wouldn’t look up, but after a moment he nodded. August stood and ushered Adrian over to the door. Adrian’s stance and hunched shoulders made him look as if he were being led to the gallows instead of out of the room. The white bandage around Adrian’s hand caught Garrett’s eye. When had Adrian been hurt?

“Reginald, please make sure Garrett stays put.”

Once August and Adrian had left, Reginald closed the door before turning to lean back against the frame, arms folded and one foot crossed over the other. Trying not to squirm under the intent stare, Garrett opted to ignore him and instead focused on the thermometer in his hand. He twirled it between his fingers hoping to make sense of everything. What worried him most was how strangely Adrian was acting, and the way he’d faded nearly completely from the Primal. Even now Garrett could barely sense his presence nearby without actively concentrating. Any hint of emotion was muffled beneath a flat grey nothingness that set Garrett’s stomach quivering if he touched it too closely. Adrian had done the same once before when Garrett returned from visiting the Queen of Beggars, after he’d been unable to prevent the nightmare from leaking through the Primal.

Garrett pressed a hand to his head, but everything felt fine. What was extravasated blood supposed to feel like? Had that been why Adrian asked if he had a headache? August had to be wrong. And yet … a day and a half. Even after everything he went through searching for Erin in the catacombs beneath the Old Cathedral and on the Dawn’s Light he hadn’t slept so long. True, he’d not left his bed for a while afterwards and even longer before he’d ventured out of the clock tower, but that hadn’t had much to do with being tired and more to do with not wanting to. He still wasn’t certain he understood everything that had happened in those few short weeks. But this was different.

Going to Harlan’s had been risky, now that he looked back at things. He’d been too tired and not physically ready. Getting caught in the poppymist from the opium salon should have warned him from the beginning that his judgement was off. Especially so, given that just climbing up to the window had exhausted him even before he entered the house. Any other time he’d have called the job off and left when he realized he wasn’t up to it. There was a fine line between challenging himself and just being stupid. The job could have waited. All he’d had to do was tell Adrian he wasn’t feeling well, or that the timing wasn’t right, or that he needed more time to study the house and guard rotations. Any of that would have satisfied Adrian and given him more time to make certain he was physically up to the task. Yet—

“Well, at least you stayed in the bed.”

Garrett looked up. August stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. Garrett glanced over to the door but it was shut. Reginald was nowhere in sight.

“I sent Adrian to bed. He’s been up all night.”

“Why? What is going on?”

August pointed to the thermometer in Garrett’s hand. “You do what I asked and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened since you collapsed at dinner.”

“You keep saying that. What—”

“I understand that you’re not used to taking instruction, but I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

Garrett looked down at the thermometer and dropped it onto the pillow. Pushing the blankets back he sat up and swung his legs around to climb out of the bed. He couldn’t just lie around any longer. If August was insisting he stay in a freezing room then he needed warmer clothes—his new cloak would do, or maybe he could borrow Adrian’s bathrobe. His head felt fuzzy and the room swayed around him, but he dismissed it. He was just hungry, that was all. He should go see if Elsie had anything leftover she could spare—

Before Garrett’s feet landed on the rug August jumped forward and grabbed his shoulders. “Please. Don’t. I’m not saying this just as your doctor but as your friend. Please don’t. You’ve been extremely fortunate to wake up at all, and having suffered one attack puts you at high risk of another. We can’t risk triggering a second attack until I’m certain you’ve recovered. It might very well kill you next time.”

Garrett shrugged August away and leaned back on his hands to get some space between them.

“And as General of the Watch, why do you care if a thief dies? If I’m that sick there isn’t much you can do anyway.”

August jerked back as if Garrett had struck at him. The look in the pale green eyes closed off and then August was striding over to Adrian’s desk. He rummaged around in a couple of drawers before pulling out a shallow box. He carried it back over to the bed and held it out to Garrett.

“Open it.”

Garrett took the box. The lid came off to reveal a framed picture, and a battered journal. A plaited twist of vibrant red hair had been slipped between the dog-eared pages. He took out the picture first. The photograph was years old but startlingly clear. A very young-looking Adrian grinned at him from the quarterdeck of the _Hanged Maiden_. Garrett brushed his thumb across Adrian’s face. He looked happy, almost glowing as he shaded his eyes from the strong sunlight. It took Garrett several moments to notice the other young man who stood beside Adrian, one arm casually slung across Adrian’s shoulder. Long, windswept red hair matched the plait tucked into the journal. The sight sent a pang of something soft and unfamiliar through Garrett. The two of them looked … right. Like they belonged together.

Absorbed in the photograph, Garrett barely heard August’s low and hushed tone. “That’s Rylan. I don’t know if Adrian has mentioned him to you, or if he ever will. They were both part of Aldric’s crew for several years after we—they—joined her.”

“I’ve seen him.”

August narrowed his eyes. “That’s impossible. He’s been dead for seven years.”

Garrett stared down at the photograph. “Adrian dreams about him. Nightmares, really.”

“I’m not surprised. He still blames himself for Rylan’s death. That was his journal at the time.”

“He … fell?”

August nodded. “Adrian spent a whole night watching Rylan as he died. He spent last night thinking he was doing the same thing all over again.”

Garrett returned the frame to the box and set it to the side on the bed. He pulled his feet up and curled in on himself, unsure if he shivered from the cold or from the churning in his gut as the knife twisted yet again. “Even if I was in a coma, I feel fine now. I’m not dying.”

“We didn’t know that. We still don’t know for certain. This isn’t the first time Adrian has had to watch you nearly die, is it?”

The tone wasn’t accusatory but Garrett still flinched. No, not the first time. Not even the second. Or the third. The ice in his chest sharpened, leaving him hollow. Somewhere along the way he’d lost count of just how many times Adrian had saved him.

When Garrett didn’t reply August went on. “I know the two of you are close. But all things considered you barely know each other. You couldn’t possibly understand what this situation is doing to Adrian. The least you could do is let me examine you. Please.”

If it would mean helping Adrian … Garrett dipped his head.

“Thank you.” August retrieved the thermometer from the pillow and held it out to him. Garrett glared but took it anyway. August gave him a small smile. He pulled the spare blanket off the back of the nearby chair and shook it out before draping it around Garrett’s shoulders. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do care what happens to you. And not just because of Adrian.”

Garrett dropped his head as he tugged the blanket tighter around himself. If it weren’t so strange a notion he might almost have believed August to be genuine.

August smiled and unhooked his glasses from around his ears. He took a cloth out of his pocket to polish them as he seated himself on the bed beside Garrett.

“Adrian is right. You can’t see it, but the rest of us do. No matter how hard you try to hide it, you’re a good man, Garrett. A good man that my little brother is very much in love with. A good man who needs to decide where his own feelings lie, because it has become more than obvious that there _are_ feelings.”

Garrett snapped his mouth closed before the thermometer could fall out. August chuckled.

“Don’t look so surprised. You might be a master thief, but you haven’t mastered disguising the expressions on your face. Here.” August leaned forward and took the thermometer. He peered at it for a moment. “Hmm, slightly higher than I’d like. Nothing to get immediately alarmed about, but we’ll need to keep an eye on it. You needn’t glare at me like that. I was just stating things as I see them. I know you care about Adrian. That much is obvious. But I don’t think you realize just how much all this is hurting him.”

“You’re acting like I’m doing it on purpose.” Not on purpose, but he’d certainly made mistakes. Mistakes that apparently didn’t just affect him.

“That wasn’t my intention, Garrett.” August stood and walked over to the table to put the thermometer away in its case. As he spoke August unstoppered a squat glass bottle that sat on the tray, using a dropper to measure out the contents into a glass. He added a dribble of water from a jug before bringing the glass over and holding it out. “I know this attack wasn’t anything you could have helped. But there were symptoms beforehand, were there not? Elsie tells me you’ve not slept more than a handful of hours for at least the last week, if not longer.”

Garrett took the glass and sniffed at the contents. The sweet scent of cinnamon and cloves almost but not quite masked a sharp chemical smell. One he knew well. August had made him drink more than enough of it in the first week they’d been home. He scowled at the bitter taste and set the empty glass on the nightstand.

August gave his head a slow shake as he folded his arms over his chest. “Do you not trust us enough to tell us something like that? Surely you trust Adrian more than that? He is worthy of your trust, is he not? Or does he need to lose another eye first?”

Just the thought of Adrian having to go through that kind of pain a second time had Garrett shuddering. He shook his head, unable to find words. He trusted Adrian with his life. How could August question that?

August raised his eyebrows and let his arms fall to his sides. “That was unfair of me, but I need you to understand that he’s falling apart. There is nothing more distasteful to me than having to sedate my brother because he’s too distraught to function. I am not blaming you. I just want you to understand. That journal … he doesn’t know I found it. Whatever you choose to do with it I’ll need it back by lunch time, before Adrian wakes.”

“Not above going through his things, are you?”

“And that journal you practically sleep with is yours?”

“I didn’t drug him.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you actually spoke more than two words at a time.”

“I do.”

August snorted. “If you trust him, then show him some respect and actually talk to him. I didn’t drug Adrian because he couldn’t sleep. I drugged him because he was in hysterics from worrying about you. He blames himself for your falling ill because you couldn’t tell him when you started feeling unwell. If you don’t talk to him, tell him how you’re feeling, he’s going to keep blaming himself, and more than the library mirror is going to break. I know you’re not the most vocal person but please, please just try. Can you do that for me? For Adrian?”

_Why didn’t you say something?_

Garrett stared down at his hands. Adrian had asked him that, then immediately apologized for harassing him. Had he given Adrian the impression that he was annoyed or upset by the questions? Was that why Adrian had shut himself away? He’d already caused Adrian so much suffering, the last thing he wanted was to cause more. Garrett glanced at the wet patch Adrian’s tears had left on the pillow. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d still done it. Again.

He’d been so worried about not burdening Adrian he’d not thought things through. Once again he’d let his pride get in the way. Or was it even pride? Maybe it was fear, that same fear that had kept him from admitting to himself how much Erin mattered to him.

The murky grey barrier was still there when he reached out with the Primal. Concentrating, he could just about place Adrian in the guest room next door, but not being able to sense him had that harrowing day in Leiston flooding his senses. The bang of the trapdoor. Screams and cheers from the crowd. Dead fish reeking through the suffocating hood. Dalibor’s bruising grip the only thing holding him upright. Desperately searching for Adrian in the Primal and finding nothing. In that moment he’d discovered a depth of pain he’d never imagined possible. If last night he’d put Adrian through anything like that …

His name and a warm hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I’m fi—” Garrett cut himself off before the words could slip out. Pulling his legs back up onto the bed he lay down and groped around for the discarded blankets. “When Adrian wakes up, can I see him?”

August smiled. “Absolutely.”


	24. Chapter 24

Garrett lay watching the bedroom door long after August’s footsteps departed. He clutched one of the pillows to his chest, but it did nothing to help ease the pressure spreading out from his middle. The box sat on the bed beside him, dragging at the blankets every time he shifted, growing heavier and heavier the harder he tried to ignore it. He’d never hesitated before to steal things people valued, but this was different. This was Adrian’s, and not just any box of heirlooms. This felt like … this wasn’t stealing. This was grave robbing.

He pushed the thought away. August clearly felt the old journal contained something he needed to see. He wasn’t stealing anything. It was just a journal. Garrett hadn’t tried to hide his actions and Adrian was fully aware Garrett often read his journal. If Adrian didn’t like it, he’d have said something.

Shoving the pillow away Garrett sat up. The room spun around him and he screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself against the mattress until the dizziness faded. It was fine. He was fine. He’d just moved too quickly, that was all. Once he was reasonably sure the floor had stopped lurching he let out a breath and opened his eyes. He pulled the box carefully toward himself, keeping one hand firmly planted in case his surroundings misbehaved again.

Garrett pulled out the journal and deliberately avoided looking at the photograph as he dropped the lid shut on the box. Already shivering from the chill in the air he eased himself back down and tugged the blankets higher. August hadn’t said how long he’d have to stay like this. Hopefully not long. This was worse than wintering in the clock tower. At least his bed there was tucked away under the stairs where the drafts couldn’t find him. What was Adrian supposed to do if he couldn’t even use his own bedroom?

He arranged himself a second pillow to lean against and turned the journal right side up. Its fine-grained leather was cool and soft, worn smooth in places. The twist of hair fell out into his hand as he opened the cover. Loosely braided and secured with button thread, it was unlike any of the elaborate hairwork trinkets he usually came across while thieving. He laid it gently on the pillow to keep it safe, and returned his attention to the journal.

The first entry was dated 2 5 NRy830. Twelve years ago. Adrian would have been eighteen. Twelve years ago he’d still been living in the derelict attic he’d called home before moving to the clock tower.

“Aldric says I have to practice writing in the language. It’s stupid. He’s stupid. They can’t even get the date right.”

Garrett could almost imagine Adrian writing it, lips in a pout and brow scrunched. Some of the entries after that didn’t make much sense, and lapsed into Throvian after only a few lines. Isolated words he understood jumped out at him here and there, but not enough to follow any of the entries. Garrett hadn’t even realized Adrian was Throvian when they’d first met, his accent barely noticeable. Aldric and Amaury’s accents were stronger, but he supposed traveling with the fleet they’d not been exposed to City voices anywhere near so much. August was right. Even for all they’d been through together there was still so much he didn’t know about Adrian.

By NRy831 the entries were nearly fluent, and mostly consisted of Adrian’s observations of the weather and sailing conditions, along with sketches of the ship and occasionally people. Several longer entries in the summer of NRy832 spoke of a deal gone sour and Adrian’s getting shot. Only Adrian would be happy about getting a scar. Garrett thumbed further ahead, catching glimpses of more sketches. Mostly Rylan, though Aldric and Jeffers appeared every so often.

Toward the end of the journal the dates became more sporadic, sometimes weeks or even months between entries. Many were just date, time and weather conditions. Adrian’s sketches of Rylan became smaller, and seemed rushed. The entry for 9 24 NRy835 had only two words.

“He’s gone.”

The next entry came two weeks later, the writing sloppy and smeared. Inkspots marred the page, all but obscuring the words in some places.

“Home. August won’t leave me alone. I don’t need sedating. I don’t need anything. I need Rylan back.”

Several blank pages followed though splattered ink had Garrett wondering if Adrian had tried to write only to give up. There was no date when the words began again, the writing uneven and barely legible.

“I’m so fucking mad at Aldric. I’m not a child. Amaury deserved to get hit. He doesn’t have to keep on. I know. I know he’s gone. I know it’s my fault. It was my job to secure the lines. I’m so stupid. He trusted me to keep him safe and I failed him. I killed him. I killed him.

“I waited all night but he didn’t wake up. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to tell him how sorry I am. For not being” —the words became too smeared to read. “It should have been me. I should have fallen instead.

“I can’t do this. It’s been a month. Every day is a struggle. What am I supposed to do? How can anyone trust me to do anything? I’ll just fail and kill them too. Aldric agrees. They set sail this morning. They left me behind.

“August hid the whiskey. I can’t sleep but I don’t want him drugging me. I’d rather have the nightmares. At least then I can see him.”

Garrett couldn’t say how long he lay there staring at the entry. Heat burned behind his eyes when he finally blinked and let out a shuddering breath. The crooked and misshapen letters wavered and swam as he brushed his fingers over the page, but no matter how many times he read and reread the words, their meaning refused to shift even the slightest degree.

_I made a mistake once. A grave mistake. One I will not repeat._

Waterstains speckled the lower half of the page. Garrett touched a hand to his left shoulder. His shirt was still wet. _I waited all night but he didn’t wake up. I didn’t even get to say goodbye._ He pulled in a ragged breath, something tightening within him. He glanced toward the window, his legs twitching with the urge to move. To run. To find a deep dark hole to hide in. But that wouldn’t solve anything and he’d only hurt Adrian that much worse.

_If you don’t talk to him, tell him how you’re feeling, he’s going to keep blaming himself._

With trembling fingers he turned the page. Blank. All the following pages were blank. His mind raced back over what little he could remember of the last few days. What had he done wrong? Should he have told Adrian he couldn’t sleep without the nightmares leaking through the Primal? At least then he might not have needed to force himself to stay awake far beyond his limits. He’d been so worried about not burdening Adrian, but it always seemed to upset Adrian when Garrett tried to reassure him he was fine. August seemed to think it wasn’t enough. Did Adrian want to be burdened?

But there hadn’t been anything Adrian needed to worry about. Garrett had been fine. He’d been exhausted, yes, but that shouldn’t have caused anything like this. Or so he’d thought. Had he made himself ill by refusing to sleep? Was there something else going on? Had he made everything worse?

What had he done?

The tightness in his chest began to tingle. What had he done? The last thing he wanted was to hurt Adrian, but all he’d achieved was the exact scenario he’d tried so hard to avoid.

_I waited all night but he didn’t wake up._

Curling tighter under the blankets Garrett wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to contain the fierce heat working its way up the back of his throat, choking him as if he’d tried to swallow one of the coals from the fireplace.

Basso had been right. He should have listened to Basso. If he’d given himself time to actually rest maybe none of this would have happened. He should have known he wasn’t ready. Instead he’d rushed in without stopping to think. Just like Erin always had. He should have told Adrian he couldn’t manage the Harlan job. Not yet. Adrian would have understood. They could have worked something out. Could have waited until he was ready. But he’d been too desperate to make things right.

So desperate he’d not just scared Adrian, but forced him to relive a nightmare. _I waited all night but he didn’t wake up._ Garrett squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never seen Adrian so stricken, even after all they’d been through. A day and a half. A day and a half of making Adrian suffer so badly August had resorted to sedating him.

Something brushed against the back of his neck. Garrett flinched, head snapping up toward the door. Still closed. No one there. Reaching back he found the twist of Rylan’s hair where it had slipped down the pillow. He turned it over in his hand—it didn’t seem to have come to any harm. Sliding the plait between the pages of the journal he closed the cover over it. Hard edges dug into him as he clutched the journal to his chest.

Nausea welled in his gut. Letting out a shaky breath he grimaced at the sour taste in the back of his mouth. He couldn’t afford to be sick now. He wouldn’t be able to clean up after himself. And it would only scare Adrian more. He drew another shuddering breath that only left his chest aching worse. It didn’t let up.

He reached up with his right hand to cover his mouth, worried the nausea would win out. His fingers came away wet. He blinked. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, faster than he could wipe them away. He tried for a deep breath but it caught on the lump in his throat. The ache in his chest sharpened, pulling the air out of his lungs and forcing a soft whimper. He buried his face in the blankets, trying to muffle the sound as he cradled the journal. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. His shoulders shook as a sob tore free. Another followed, then another until there was no more stifling them.


	25. Chapter 25

Out on the landing August paused, not entirely certain what he was hearing. Pressing an ear to the door it took him just a moment to identify the low sound. He let go of the door handle and took a step back as a soft pang shot through him. He’d known Garrett might be in a fragile state but he’d not intended this. It might be best to give Garrett his privacy for a few moments more. He checked his pocketwatch. Another ten minutes or so wouldn’t hurt.

When he returned everything was quiet. He eased the door open, chill air ghosting over him. Garrett had tugged the blankets high enough to bury himself almost completely. August sighed. It was a relief Garrett hadn’t tried to get up again, but there was little point in keeping the room cold if he was going to cover his head. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Adrian had said Garrett hated the cold. He’d need to make sure Garrett understood why it was so important to cool his head as much as possible. The lump in the blankets was too still for August’s liking. Had something changed in just the few minutes he’d left Garrett alone?

August sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to pull the blankets away from Garrett’s head. Garrett’s face was flushed, a startling change from his usual pallor. Not a second attack. Not so soon. He bent to check Garrett’s breathing, the knot in his stomach unclenching as Garrett’s eyelids twitched and the anguish written across his face faded abruptly to a careful blankness. Not even fully asleep, then. August straightened to adjust his glasses. He wouldn’t embarrass Garrett by letting on he knew the man was pretending. August wasn’t who Garrett needed to see. If Garrett didn’t feel up to talking then he could just play along—he didn’t need Garrett awake to examine him. Though he did need to locate the journal and photograph so he could put them away. He didn’t want to risk Adrian learning he’d found them and given them to Garrett.

He wasn’t sure giving Garrett the box had been a good idea if this were the result, but he couldn’t think of any other way to get through to him. From the times he and Garrett had talked in the library he knew Garrett was smart. Brilliant, even. Until it came to interacting with people. Since the pair had been home he’d seen Garrett falter too many times when asked anything regarding himself. The episode of battle fatigue came to mind. Garrett hadn’t even told Adrian what had caused it, something that had surprised August when Adrian told him. It worried him as well. If they didn’t know what might trigger an episode, there was nothing they could do to help prevent another. Garrett’s standard answer of ‘I’m fine’ was quite obviously intended to deflect any further probing.

The box still lay on the bed. August picked it up, and paused. It felt far too light. Adrian’s photograph grinned back at him as he opened the lid, but where was his journal? The nightstand was bare, save for August’s notebook and the empty snowglobe that had appeared last night. Rounding the bed August checked the floor on Garrett’s side in case he’d knocked the journal off the bed by accident. Nothing. What had Garrett done with it?

August pulled the blankets further down. Garrett lay curled nearly into a fetal position, the vest and loose cotton shirt doing little to hide the sharp ridges along his spine. August had only treated two other people this emaciated during his practice. One had survived, but would have lifelong complications. Something he was determined to spare Garrett from suffering. A hard lump rose in his throat as he remembered watching helplessly as Garrett weakened hour by hour, little he could do other than keep vigil and hope for a miracle. Late last night something had arrested the slow decline and Garrett had even held his own overnight, but August hadn’t dared think it any more than a temporary stay before the inevitable. It baffled him how Garrett had not only survived the attack, but showed no immediate signs of paralysis or cognitive damage.

Garrett clutched the journal to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around it. Damp hair clung to his forehead and along his cheeks. If Garrett was sweating like this, he might be developing the fever August was watching for. He laid the back of his hand on Garrett’s forehead, relieved when he couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. He’d wait until Garrett ‘woke’ to take his temperature again and be certain. There was no need to worry over it right now, and getting the journal away from Garrett was the more pressing issue.

He tugged gently at it but Garrett only tightened his grip. August let him have it, debating whether or not to let slip he knew Garrett was awake and ask him to give it back. He glanced around the room looking for inspiration. Adrian’s current journal lay out on his desk. If he had to take the one, he could at least replace it with the other. He could let Garrett have that much.

Garrett visibly shivered in the short time it took to retrieve Adrian’s journal from his desk, but still wouldn’t open his eyes or give any indication he was awake. August laid the second journal on the nightstand and sank into the chair beside the bed. Taking up his notebook he scanned the most recent pages. He hardly needed the reminder. The past day and a half he’d done little else than study each neatly penned entry before adding the next. He kept the examination as brief as possible, opting to leave out anything that would force Garrett to admit he was awake. He’d be back within the hour and by then Garrett might feel better able to cooperate. Pulse and respiration were both too high, but that was easily explained if Garrett had been crying for more than a few minutes.

Garrett’s grip tightened convulsively as August tried again to take the journal. He was wondering if he ought to pry Garrett’s fingers loose when Garrett shuddered and let go. August slipped the second journal into his hands, his smile growing strained as Garrett hugged it to himself and curled tighter around it. He wasn’t sure if Garrett finally trusted him, or if Garrett even knew just how much he’d revealed. It was rare the façade slipped entirely to lay bare the wounded man beneath, who had endured so much. Things no one should ever have to endure.

He pulled the covers back up, careful to leave Garrett’s head exposed, and gave into the urge to smooth his hand over the dark hair. He wasn’t sure how or why Garrett was still alive, but he’d do everything in his power to make certain he recovered. He wanted to see Garrett healthy and happy. Not like this. He wanted to get to know Garrett, not just see a list of symptoms he was desperate to treat.

August climbed to his feet at the quiet knock on the door, but took the time to return the box to its drawer before answering it. Reginald waited outside looking just as tired and worn as August felt, though with his fresh-pressed uniform he was nowhere near as rumpled. August tugged his vest straight, but there was little he could do about the creases in his untucked shirt. He’d change into fresh clothes after he’d seen to Garrett.

“Lord de la Fontaine is here with the tailor for the next fitting. What shall I tell him?”

August grimaced. “Nathaniel is here? I’d forgotten completely. Um … tell him I’ll be down soon. Please make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Of course, sir. And the tailor?”

“Please tell him Garrett is unwell and make arrangements for him to come next week.”

Reginald nodded. “I’ll do that. How is Master Garrett?”

“Resting. It’ll be some time yet before we’ll know for sure, but I’m hoping the worst is past. Honestly, his waking at all is a wonder. I’ll be down in just a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

August shut the door and went to fetch the empty glass from the tray where he’d left it earlier. He measured out the aromatic spirits of ammonia and set it on the nightstand alongside a glass of water.

“There’s medicine here waiting for you. I’d like you to drink it as soon as you’re able.”

 

Nathaniel was waiting for him out in the hall. “Is he alright? What happened?”

“Come join me in my office. We can talk there.” August shut the bedroom door behind himself before ushering Nathaniel back downstairs. No sense in letting cold air spread to the rest of the house.

Nathaniel’s apprehensive gaze didn’t waver as August related the events of the past few days. Every so often he cursed softly and gestured for August to continue. By the time August had finished, Nathaniel had slumped into one of the wingback chairs by the fire and was plucking at his cravat with sharp, jerky motions.

“And Adrian? How is he taking this?”

“Not well would be an understatement. He’s asleep now, but I’ll tell him you asked after him.” August sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “How are things looking among the nobles?”

Nathaniel smiled grimly. “Not well would be an understatement. I’ve been thoroughly snubbed this week. Lord Sterling held not one, but two dinners this week where I wasn’t invited, and then today I find out Lord Marlham has already posted invitations for the ball he’s holding next month. My invitation appears to have been misplaced.”

“That’s odd. You of all people should have been invited. I thought you said Marlham needs to cosy up with Ambrose’s allies. I suppose Marlham is trying to show him up?”

“Undoubtedly. Ambrose beat him to hosting the first event of the season, so Marlham has to host one bigger and better if he’s to hold his position. I trust your invitation arrived safely?”

August gestured toward the overflowing stacks of paper on his desk. “Your guess is as good as mine. If you’ve not been invited, I suppose that means I have to go?”

“You should be there anyway, but yes.” Nathaniel stood and came over to help August search. “It’s even more important now if I can’t be there to keep abreast of events.”

The gilt-edged envelope was buried three layers down under a pile of patrol reports. Nathaniel tugged it out from under the papers and offered it to August. “Careful you don’t lose this. Garrett will probably want it for his collection.”

Gold leaf glittered in the gaslight as August turned the gaudy envelope over in his hands. Garrett didn’t have a collection. Not any more. He glanced over at the wall safe where he’d stored the three Montonessi paintings Garrett had recovered from the Thief-Taker’s hoard. He hadn’t missed how reluctant Garrett had seemed to turn them over, yet he’d surrendered the key apparently without a second thought. He’d even made a small joke about it, all while knowing full well that his entire collection now belonged to the Watch. August could barely comprehend what might have compelled him to make such a sacrifice. He ought to return one of the paintings. The recovered Black Tax alone was enough to reform the Watch, and with Garrett’s collection as well they’d have no shortage of funds to complete the Auldale Bridge and rebuild most of what the Graven had destroyed. A Montonessi was worth a king’s ransom, but they would still have plenty without it. Adrian’s report and the warrant had only mentioned the ledger, and the three paintings hidden in his wall safe wouldn’t appear on any inventory taken at the Harlan residence. No one outside the family would notice if the twelfth painting went missing and Garrett deserved something for all the sacrifices he’d made. A painting hardly seemed adequate, no matter how valuable, but it would have to do for now.

August looked up as Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I apologize. I’ve not slept much recently.” August returned his attention to the envelope. “Since you weren’t invited and this allows me to bring a guest, why don’t you come along as my companion?”

“That sounds lovely. I have just the dress for the occasion.”

 

 

Something cold and wet bumped against Adrian’s nose. He brushed it away but a moment later it was back again. A cluster of pinpricks tapped at his cheek. Groaning, he cracked open his eyelid to see bright amber eyes staring at him from three inches away. Ferdinand gave a delighted chirrup and flopped back down onto Adrian’s chest.

“Ferdinand?” Fighting a smile, Adrian let his fingers wander through the dark silky fur. “You shouldn’t be here. I thought August was going to take you home.”

No, that wasn’t right. August wouldn’t have had the chance to take Ferdinand anywhere yet. August was too busy taking care of Garrett.

Garrett!

Sliding his hands under the great fluffy lump, Adrian dumped Ferdinand onto the blanket. Two in the afternoon. He’d slept longer than he’d wanted, but the heaviness in his head was finally gone. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to think clearly. Ferdinand instantly settled himself into the warm spot left behind as Adrian climbed out of the bed.

Adrian sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. Everything had to be fine. August would have come to wake him if anything happened to Garrett. It didn’t help. By the time he’d combed through and retied his hair, the knot of worry once more tightened in his gut. He should go sit with Garrett. He’d slept more than long enough and August wouldn’t throw him out as long as he was quiet.

August was passing the door as Adrian came out of the guest room. He glanced up and smiled at Adrian. The tension eased along Adrian’s shoulders, tension he’d not even been aware he carried. If August were smiling everything had to be alright.

“Good to see you awake.”

“How is he?”

“I was just going in to check. Why don’t you join me?”

The room was still chilly, but not as frigid as it had been at dawn. Garrett had moved and now lay facing the door, shifted so far over toward Adrian’s side that he’d stolen both pillows. Maybe it was his imagination, but Garrett almost looked worse than before. His eyes were puffy and swollen, red blotches covering his nose and cheeks. Adrian tensed. Garrett was so still. Too still.

“He is just sleeping? It’s not …” Adrian winced at the hitch in his voice and was careful not to look at August.

“Yes, Adrian, I can tell the difference between sleep and a coma. Since he fell asleep he’s been responsive every time I’ve checked on him. When he was in the coma he couldn’t respond at all.”

“He’s been asleep nearly two days.”

August shook his head. “A coma isn’t the same thing. Sleep is a good sign right now. He’ll recover more quickly with rest.”

Only slightly reassured, Adrian trailed August to the bedside and watched as he checked Garrett over. It took longer than usual since Garrett kept pulling the covers back over himself and mumbling something unintelligible every time August touched him. The difference from before was stark, and Adrian had to hide the smile as Garrett fought August for the blankets. He almost couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled.

“He’s still a little feverish, but it’s nothing to worry over just yet.” August tucked his notebook under one arm as he got to his feet. “He could do with a haircut. Keeping his head cool will minimize the irritation and swelling, and help stave off another attack.”

“I don’t know that he’d let Reginald. I can try doing it.”

“As long as you don’t butcher it. He does need to look presentable for the ball.”

“You’re still thinking of … he can …”

August smiled and patted his arm. “We won’t know for a while yet, but if everything goes well then there’s no reason why not. When he wakes, get him to drink both the water and the medicine I set out for him. It will help.”

“Maybe you should go get some sleep yourself.” Adrian gripped August’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Thank you … for everything.”

August nodded. “Call me if anything changes.”

 

Once August left, Adrian stood beside the bed, unsure what to do. He didn’t want to risk disturbing Garrett by getting in the bed with him, not that Garrett had left him enough space to even try. That left the chair next to it. When they’d first arrived home he’d spent hours just watching Garrett sleep. Even before that, if you counted the time in the clock tower before they’d left the City. He went to his desk to get his journal, but it wasn’t where he’d left it. Maybe August had moved it. He could always start that new novel he’d been meaning to read. Adrian flopped down into the chair and made himself comfortable as he opened the book to the first page.

Ten minutes later he was still staring at the first sentence. Concentrating would have been easier on deck during a storm. Every slight movement or deeper breath from Garrett had him stopping to look over, in part worried each time something might be wrong, but a larger part deeply reassured Garrett was moving at all. He finally closed the book after an hour. He’d only managed a couple of pages and couldn’t even remember what it was about. Giving up, he went to return it to the bookcase. The sudden loud creak from the loose floorboard near the foot of the bed felt almost deafening in the near silence. Adrian cringed. Had he woken Garrett?

As he reached the bookcase Adrian froze at the rustle of blankets. He turned toward the bed to find Garrett watching him.

“Are you alright?” No. Stupid. He shouldn’t be harassing Garrett at all, and certainly not now. He’d already made that mistake once this morning.

Garrett opened his mouth, but said nothing. After a few seconds he let out a slow breath and dropped his head back to the pillow. Adrian took a step toward the bed, only to catch himself. The book dug hard lines into his palms as his grip tightened around it. He shifted his weight, uneasy, watching Garrett in the hope of something—anything—to tell him what to do.

“Adrian.”

Garrett never said his name that way. Softly, almost wistfully. If only he dared let himself hope that much. The warmth in his chest spread as Garrett’s gaze finally met his. He said nothing, afraid even to breathe in case he broke the spell.

“I’m …” Garrett started, then trailed off. Silence. His gaze flickered across the floor as if searching for something. “Is that new?”

“Th-the book? Yes. I mean, not that new, but I’ve not read it yet. August got it for me.” Adrian grimaced. He was rambling. “Did you … did you want to read it?”

Garrett gave a small nod. He spoke hesitantly as if not sure he should speak at all. “Would you read it to me?”

Adrian grinned, the unease melting away. “Of course. I’d love nothing more.”

Striding over to the bed he sat on the edge. The massive weight of worry lifted, leaving him feeling as though he could finally breathe again. He smiled at Garrett as he showed him the front cover.

“It’s one I thought you might enjoy too. If you’d like I can read it to you while you drink the medicine August left out?” Was that too pushy? Should he have worded it differently?

“Okay.”

When Garrett didn’t even attempt to move, Adrian set the book down. Taking a spare pillow he fluffed it and wedged it under Garrett’s head to make it easier for him. By the time he’d retrieved both glasses Garrett had shifted around to make himself comfortable, one hand snaking out from under the blankets. Adrian handed him the medicine glass and sat back down, leaving the water within easy reach on the nightstand nearest them. He started reading, glancing at Garrett every so often. He’d just finished the second chapter when he looked up to realize Garrett’s eyes were closed, the glass all but ready to tumble out of his hand. Hardly surprising. August had said Garrett needed rest. He closed the book and reached to take the glass, thankful to see that it was empty.

Garrett didn’t let go. Startled, Adrian looked at him more closely. Was something wrong? Garrett’s eyes opened but he didn’t look up from where they both held the glass.

“I’m sorry.”

The whisper caught him completely off-guard. Adrian snapped his mouth shut before he could say something stupid. He didn’t dare move a muscle as Garrett looked up at him. Pain shone in the beautiful eyes.

“I’m sorry … I didn’t know.”

Adrian took a slow, cautious breath. Was Garrett apologizing for getting sick? Setting the book on the blankets Adrian cupped Garrett’s cheek as he stroked his thumb over the scar.

“It’s alright. You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Letting go of the glass, Garrett reached up and wrapped his fingers around Adrian’s wrist. Adrian steeled himself to be pushed away yet again, but Garrett only held onto him. He let out a soft sigh and shut his eyes. Adrian’s heart stuttered in his chest as tears slid down Garrett’s cheeks. Quickly moving the glass aside he scooted closer. He watched Garrett for a moment, unsure what to do. He’d never seen Garrett like this. Part of him was desperate to pull Garrett close and hold him, but that might be too much right now. Instead he waited. After a moment Garrett’s grip on his wrist loosened slightly. Adrian held still. If Garrett needed to pull away he would, but Adrian wasn’t about to force him to when he had no idea why Garrett was so upset. Had he done something wrong? Garrett finally pulled Adrian’s hand away from his face but didn’t let go.

“Would you like—” “Could you get—” They both spoke at the same time only to break off. Adrian reached over and picked up the glass of water.

“Helps to have something to wash that taste out of your mouth.” Adrian watched Garrett take a drink before speaking again. “We need to cut your hair. August said it would help. If you feel up to it we could go ahead and do that.”

“Okay.”

Adrian smiled and reached over to ruffle his hand through Garrett’s hair. “I’ll go get everything set up, then. Stay put and finish that, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Safely in the bathroom Adrian scowled at nothing in particular as he rummaged through the cabinet in search of scissors and comb. What had he been thinking? How could he expect Garrett to confide in him when he kept ordering him about? Had he always treated Garrett like that? No wonder Basso thought him manipulative. Garrett deserved better. Steam rose as he filled the basin, and after a moment’s thought he dumped most of the water out again and added more cold until it was barely above lukewarm. The last thing Garrett needed right now was dunking his head in hot water. He was supposed to be taking care of Garrett, not trying to kill him. Heading back for Garrett, he grabbed his bathrobe from its hook behind the door. It would work better than blankets to keep the chill away.

“Garrett, no. You can’t—” Adrian rushed toward the bed to pull the blankets away from where Garrett had tugged them back up over his head. Hadn’t August told him that he mustn’t do that? “Wait, is that … is that my journal?”

Garrett blinked up at him, grip tightening around the journal clutched to his chest. He said nothing, though the look on his face flickered from sheepish to almost defiant.

Adrian glanced back over at his desk where he was sure he’d left it lying out. So how had Garrett gotten hold of it? “You didn’t—”

Garrett shook his head quickly. “No. August gave it to me.”

A swell of relief that Garrett hadn’t retrieved it himself soon gave way to puzzlement. August probably knew Garrett read the journal—Garrett wasn’t exactly subtle about it—but even so, he couldn’t think what would prompt August to give it to him. It didn’t matter. Whatever August’s purpose, it had clearly meant something to Garrett. It was hard to miss the fine tremor in the long white-knuckled fingers clamped around the journal, or the almost guarded way Garrett was watching him, as if he expected Adrian to snatch it away at any second.

“Okay, that’s fine. I was just worried you’d got out of bed. You can keep hold of it for now if you want.” Adrian offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn’t understand why his journal seemed so important to Garrett, but Adrian wasn’t about to interrogate him or take it away when he had no other ideas of his own how to help. He held out the bathrobe. “I brought this for you.”

Garrett watched him a moment longer before nodding once. Shifting around he planted one hand against the mattress and gingerly pushed himself upright. Adrian jerked closer before he could stop himself, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Was he in pain? August hadn’t mentioned anything about Garrett being in pain. Shaking off the thought he leaned over to drape the bathrobe around Garrett’s shoulders. He’d harassed Garrett more than enough already. Garrett would tell him if and when he wanted. Not wanting to rush Garrett or make him uncomfortable by staring, he looked away to study the bookcase while he waited. He gave a small start as Garrett grabbed his arm.

“Dizzy.”

The quiet admission sent a thread of worry through Adrian. Was this a bad idea? Perhaps Garrett shouldn’t be moving around so much. He’d just have to make sure Garrett didn’t exert himself. He pulled the robe more closely about Garrett and then bent to pick him up. He’d expected protest but there was none. Instead Garrett’s hands looped around his neck and latched onto the collar of his shirt. Adrian curbed the desire to nuzzle his face into Garrett’s hair and just hold him for a while. He shouldn’t keep Garrett out of bed any longer than absolutely necessary.

“I’m sorry.”

“Garrett, it’s okay. I said you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

Garrett shivered and Adrian held his breath as the arms around his neck tightened. Why did he keep apologizing? Garrett’s grip only loosened once they were in the bathroom. Adrian gently set Garrett on the chair he’d dragged over beside the washstand. Garrett huddled into the bathrobe, clinging to the arm of the chair with his head down. Adrian glanced around for inspiration. There had to be something he could do to help Garrett relax. Hesitant at first, he ran his fingers through Garrett’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian kept his tone light. “Worried you’ll end up bald?”

Thin shoulders shifted back as Garrett raised his head to meet Adrian’s gaze. “No. I trust you.”

Adrian stared down, unable to tear himself away. There was pain there in Garrett’s eyes, unmistakable, but also something else he couldn’t decipher. On anyone else he would have thought it guilt. Shame, even. Adrian shook his head as he turned away to grab the cup he’d set out next to the basin. No, he had to be wrong. Garrett had nothing to feel guilty about. He wouldn’t force Garrett to talk about whatever had upset him so badly. Adrian had already demanded more than enough. A soft noise came from behind him. Not quite a sigh, but it couldn’t possibly be the sob it had sounded like.

He turned back to Garrett and gestured toward the basin. “Here, we need to get your hair wet first.”

Garrett nodded and gripped the edge of the washstand to steady himself as he leaned over the basin. A shudder ran through him as Adrian poured lukewarm water over his head, but he said nothing.

“I’m not sure how you normally prefer your hair. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  
Adrian combed his fingers through Garrett’s hair to separate the tangles. “You sure? August said it has to be short, but if there’s anything you want, then—”

Garrett shook his head. “It’s just hair.”

Adrian almost snorted as he started toweling Garrett’s hair until it was at least no longer dripping. Those words would never have come out of Rylan’s mouth. He’d taken more pride in his hair than anyone Adrian had ever met. The only time a pair of scissors touched his hair was after he’d died. Adrian sighed as he draped the towel around Garrett’s shoulders. The pain was still there, would likely always be there, but the sharp edges were finally wearing off. He had Garrett to thank for that. With a start he realized the anniversary of Rylan’s death had come and gone. The stab of guilt was tempered with a sense of relief. For the first time in seven years he hadn’t spent it drunk, though he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d been at the time. Those weeks had been a blur of pain and worry. But that nightmare was over now, and while Garrett might not be well, he was home and safe.

“You can sit up now.”

Garrett pushed himself up carefully before leaning back in the chair, hands folded in his lap as he buried himself deeper into the bathrobe. Adrian cupped Garrett’s chin and lifted his head into the right position. Wet, the dark hair covered Garrett’s ears and obscured his eyes. For several minutes the only sound was the snip, snip of the scissors. Adrian kept biting back the need to ask Garrett what was wrong. Garrett would talk when, and if, he wanted to. Adrian paused as Garrett shivered. He needed to hurry up. Garrett was supposed to keep his head cool but this might be too cold for him. Maybe he should fetch another blanket. Another shiver and Garrett’s head dipped forward.

“If you’re not feeling well enough for this we can wait.”

“Th-that’s not … I’m sorry.”

That was Garrett’s third apology so far and Adrian still wasn’t any closer to understanding why. He didn’t want apologies, he wanted to understand what had Garrett so upset. His fist clenched around the comb, its teeth jabbing into his fingers as irritation bristled in his gut.

Garrett flinched. The chair scraped backward over the tiles as he recoiled, his arms jerking up to shield his head. The Primal flared to white. Rushing whispers surrounded them, growing steadily louder and more insistent as everything around them tinged a ghostly blue.

Adrian froze. “Garrett … Garrett, you’re safe. I’m here, you can let go now. Just let go. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”

His throat tightened as Garrett clutched his head in his hands. A second flash of white, and the whispers died away to leave only the muted hubbub from the street outside. Garrett slumped sideways against the arm of the chair, his head hanging as he let out a gasp that wasn’t quite a whimper.

“Garrett, what happened? What’s wrong?” Adrian dropped to his knees in front of the chair, careful not to touch Garrett. This was the last thing they needed. Garrett couldn’t afford to wear himself out like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Garrett opened his mouth, but said nothing. After a moment he lowered his hands, fingers curled inward in his lap as if trying to grasp hold of something. Adrian searched back over the last few minutes, trying to pick out what he’d done wrong. Nothing. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even made any sudden movements that could have startled Garrett. The stitches in his hand throbbed where he still gripped the comb and he relaxed his fingers, wincing as the bloodflow returned. Adrian looked down at his hand. No, that couldn’t be it. Garrett couldn’t have seen that, not when Adrian had been standing behind him. Garrett shouldn’t have felt it either. The comb’s teeth hadn’t even broken his skin.

The panicked tremor through the Primal was already fading, much faster than he would have expected. From the pained grimace on Garrett’s face Adrian wondered if he was actively trying to muffle the connection. He knew Garrett was far more sensitive to the Primal than he was, but even so …

“Garrett … the Primal, when you … how much can you—”

Garrett closed his eyes. “Everything.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Adrian let out a shaky breath. It had been his fault after all. Garrett must have sensed the flash of anger. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

Garrett shook his head, scattering water in Adrian’s face. “No, I hurt you. I upset you.”

Adrian stared at Garrett. Moving carefully to avoid startling Garrett any further, he set the comb and scissors down on the washstand. He spoke slowly and clearly, begging Garrett to understand. “I am not upset with you. You’ve done nothing to hurt me.”

Another soft noise, and this time there was no mistaking the sob. Adrian jerked forward but stopped short of touching Garrett, his hands hovering above the quaking shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

Adrian’s resolve shattered at the broken whisper. He hugged Garrett to himself and was surprised to feel Garrett hug back. Cradling the back of Garrett’s head he kissed his temple.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I should have told you. Said something.”

Adrian leaned back so he could look at Garrett. “Told me what?”

“That I didn’t feel well.”

“Was that why you were in the attic?” Adrian brushed Garrett’s hair out of his eyes, tucking the straggling ends behind his ears. Maybe this had been a bad idea, with Garrett so upset. He should take Garrett back to bed. They could finish cutting his hair later after he’d rested some more. “What happened? Why didn’t you say something was wrong?”

“I didn’t know. I thought … I thought I was just tired.”

“If you were that exhausted why didn’t you sleep when you got home?”

Soft hair brushed against Adrian’s neck as Garrett let his head fall forward. Adrian had almost given up on getting an answer before Garrett whispered into his shirtcollar. “The nightmares.”

“The night— Garrett, if they’re getting bad enough to keep you up then August can help. All you had to do was ask.”

“They weren’t keeping me up. They were affecting you.”

“They were affecting …” A cold weight landed in his stomach as if he’d tried to swallow a rock. Garrett did this to himself. On purpose. For him. Adrian pulled Garrett’s head up so he could look at him. “And you think your dropping from exhaustion doesn’t? No, look at me. Promise me you won’t do this again. Promise me you’ll look after yourself. That’s all I ask.”

“I was only—”

“Garrett, you were _dying_.” Adrian gripped Garrett’s head with shaking hands. Garrett’s eyes widened as Adrian leaned closer to rest his forehead against Garrett’s. “I nearly lost you. I can’t lose you. I’ll never forgive myself for forcing you into neglecting yourself like this.”

“You didn’t force me into anything.” Garrett took hold of Adrian’s wrists and pushed his hands away, but instead of letting go he held on a moment longer. Adrian held his breath as their gazes finally locked. Garrett let go of him only to lean forward and wrap his arms tight around his neck.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Adrian swallowed hard against the lump lodged in his throat. “I know you didn’t. If you need something, anything at all, please tell me. I love you too much to see you hurting yourself like this. Can you please promise me you’ll not do something like this again?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“And you’ll tell me if anything is bothering you?”

“I will.”

Adrian smiled. The suffocating greyness finally lifted, and he drew what felt like his first clear breath in days. He buried his face into Garrett’s shoulder and closed his eye, breathing in the scent of warm leather that still clung to Garrett’s skin.

It was several moments before Garrett’s hands loosened their grip, though he still didn’t move away. Adrian allowed himself to enjoy the embrace a while longer before he reluctantly pulled back to sit on his heels. Reaching up he ran his thumb down the scarred cheek. “I better finish this haircut and get you back in bed before August yells at me.”

“Okay.”


	26. Chapter 26

By the time Adrian put the scissors down Garrett was yawning. He brushed loose hair from around Garrett’s ears and then removed the towel.

“We can worry about a shave later. You getting some rest is more important right now.”

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. While he’d miss running his fingers through the fine strands, Garrett looked much more presentable. This was the first time Adrian could remember seeing him with anything approaching a proper haircut. Even when they’d first met Garrett’s hair had been an unruly mess. Adrian had a feeling that Garrett cut his own hair, or at least tried to. He doubted Garrett would allow anyone near him with something sharp, except possibly Basso and even then only if he had no other option. But Garrett had trusted Adrian to do it for him.

A slow smile crept across his face. Garrett trusted him. And not just about his hair, either. He was always careful to never overstep Garrett’s boundaries and overwhelm him, but he’d almost forgotten how difficult it had been at first for Garrett to allow Adrian to touch him at all. Back then he’d never have dreamed he’d get to sleep beside Garrett every night. How could he have lost sight of just how much Garrett trusted him?

“Are you alright?”

Adrian jolted out of his thoughts to find Garrett watching him with a confused expression. He nodded as he dropped the towel over the back of the chair. “I’m fine. Are you ready to go back?”

“Okay.”

There was nothing he could do to stifle the giddy grin as he carried Garrett back to the bed, but he found that he didn’t want to. Garrett looked at him oddly but said nothing, instead letting his head drop against Adrian’s shoulder.

Adrian set Garrett down on the edge of the bed and steadied him until the dizziness faded and Garrett’s grip loosened from around his neck. Garrett started to settle himself into the pillows only to jerk back upright, staring at something off to the side.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian paused from where he’d been drawing up the blankets. He followed Garrett’s gaze back to the nightstand. “Oh, sorry. I found that in the drawer while looking for blankets. I didn’t want it getting broken so I put it there.”

“It’s just something a client wanted.” Garrett picked up the glass canister, turning it over to inspect it. The blue glow slowly brightened as he held it, gently pulsing in his hands almost like a heartbeat. “It’s called the Soul of the Automaton.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s pretty.” Adrian pulled the blankets up where Garrett could easily reach them and flopped into the chair beside the bed. “Though it wasn’t doing that last night.”

Garrett glanced up at him. “Doing what?”

“When I picked it up last night it stopped glowing. Not entirely, but it definitely wasn’t getting brighter like that.”

“Odd.” The familiar blue shimmer gathered in Garrett’s right eye as he held the Soul up to peer at it. “I wonder if—”

Garrett let out a pained gasp. His eye blazed blue-white, his hands clamping down around the Soul. Adrian yelped and clutched at his head as something hot and bright and sharp stabbed through the Primal. The Soul surged brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding. Stumbling forward out of the chair, Adrian reached for Garrett as he convulsed.

“Garrett?”

The glow in Garrett’s eye dimmed. Faded. Flickered out.

“Garrett!”

Adrian caught Garrett as he slumped back against the pillows. Fingers loosened and fell limp, and the Soul rolled free onto the blanket.

“Garrett … Garrett, come on! Breathe!”

No.

No.

No, no, no no no nononononononono—

“August! AUGUST!”

Adrian tripped over his own feet as he scrambled for the door. He flung it open, screaming for August as he ran. The hall was never this long before.

August’s door flew open as he reached it. August was already there. Shoved him out of the way and sprinted past. Adrian followed on wobbly legs. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t lose Garrett. He couldn’t.

An eternity later he stumbled into his room. August’s hand hovered over Garrett’s face as he pressed two fingers into Garrett’s throat.

“What happened?”

Adrian grabbed for the doorframe as the floor lurched sideways. “I don’t know! He was fine and then—”

“Tell me exactly what happened. When did the attack start?” August bent his head low over Garrett’s to watch his chest.

“Just now. He was fine! He was talking to me and he picked up the Soul and it started glowing a-and he just—just …”

“Glowing. The snowglobe?” August shot him a skeptical look. “It’s not glowing, Adrian.”

“It’s not a fucking snowglobe!” Adrian stared at him. “You can’t see it?”

August tilted Garrett’s head back. Pinched his nose shut. Leaned over him. Blew a breath into his mouth. Ice cascaded down Adrian’s spine. Garrett wasn’t … he wasn’t … he wasn’t … he … he—

Hands grabbed him. Shook him. Hard. “What did you do last night, Adrian?”

Adrian gaped down at August. When had he … how did he move so fast? “Last—last night?”

“You said you wanted to try something with the Primal. Whatever you did, you need to do it again. Right now.”

Grey crowded the edges of Adrian’s vision. Garrett. Do something.

Something.

Primal. The Primal.

Do something with the Primal. Garrett—

The slap rocked his head back. He lost his grip on the doorframe. Staggered back.

August grabbed him again and shoved him toward the bed. “How long can you hold your breath, Adrian? Garrett doesn’t have time for your hysterics. Whatever you did last night, do it again! Now!”

Adrian caught himself against the bedpost and clung to it as he blinked away the blurry images. What had he done last night? Falling to his knees beside the bed, Adrian squeezed his eye shut and struggled to force the panic aside enough to think. He’d … he’d held Garrett’s hand. Like Garrett always did when he healed someone. Adrian reached for Garrett and clutched his hand between his own. Garrett’s hand felt somehow _less_ , as if something vital had been stolen away. No. He didn’t have time to think about that. _Concentrate_. Garrett’s thread was there—he just had to find it.

Nothing.

A frustrated groan escaped as Adrian ground the heel of one hand against his eye. Why wasn’t it working? What was he missing? He’d taken Garrett’s hand, but before that … before that he’d fetched himself a blanket, and … _and found the Soul_. He’d picked up the Soul. Adrian jumped to his feet, his heart pounding and giddy as if he’d been running. The Soul shone with an inner fire, grown much brighter than he remembered it from last night. Much brighter than even just a moment ago, so bright it was almost painful to look at. It hadn’t done that before Garrett started messing with it. Adrian’s hands shook as he reached for it—was he making everything worse?

The Soul burned in his hands as if he’d seized a live coal. He yelped but refused to let go. The Soul’s light flashed blinding white before fading away to nothing, leaving ghostly afterimages in his vision and a chorus of whispers in his ears. Tingling spread through his hands as the heat subsided. The Primal flared into life, everything lighting up blue around him. A shimmering ribbon hung in the air between himself and August, who glowed a bright blue across the room. He had to strain to see the blue-white threads stretching from each of them toward Garrett. Blue-white but so, so faint it was a struggle to see them at all. A dull steel-grey ribbon emerged from the Soul, its trailing end latched onto Garrett. It pulsed, like a heartbeat, but fading even as he watched.

“Adrian!”

He jolted at August’s voice, the darkened Soul slipping from his hands to land with a soft thud on the rug at his feet. Kneeling beside the bed he took hold of Garrett’s hand once more. Stop dithering. Do something. No time. Garrett didn’t have time.

_Concentrate._

Garrett’s thread flickered as Adrian touched it. He took hold as delicately as he knew how, fearing it would break if he even breathed on it too hard. He felt along the thread, searching for the gentle tug that had been there before. A tremor. Barely there, but enough.

_Push. Not so fast!_

This had to work. It had done something last night. It must have.

_Steady._

“Please, Garrett. Breathe. Please.” He pressed harder. “Come on.”

Warmth pooled in his chest where August’s thread rested, so he drew on that too. Focused on pushing it toward Garrett. Somewhere in the far distance August’s breath caught. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

The thread in his hands quivered as the soft blue glow slowly brightened. Garrett shuddered. Gasped.

“That’s it, Garrett. Slow, steady breaths. In and out. In and out. Good lad.” The mattress shifted as August sat on the far edge of the bed. “Adrian, whatever you are doing, it’s working. Is this what you did last night?”

Adrian managed a single dip of his head. His grip on the Primal faltered but he grabbed for it and hung on. Didn’t dare let go until he knew Garrett would be alright. Garrett’s fingers twitched, his eyelids flickering open for a moment before falling closed once more.

“That was too close.”

He couldn’t find the energy to respond. A sharp ache was growing behind his eye, much like last night, but he didn’t dare let go. Not until he knew for certain Garrett was going to be okay. He barely registered August leaning over Garrett to peer into his eyes. Adrian didn’t move, didn’t let go of the thread linking them even as points of light sparkled through his vision. Grey gathered at the edges, a dull roaring in his ears drowning out the voices that whispered through the Primal. Pain surged through his head.

“Adrian …” A cold hand tapped his cheek. “Adrian, stay with me.”

“Garrett?” A whisper, yet all he could manage.

“Comatose, but breathing normally. He’s safe for now. Are you alright?”

The gentle blue-white glow had brightened, and now hummed steadily. The Soul’s ribbon pulled taut, pulsing with dull grey light. Adrian hesitated to let go. He tried to nod in answer and nearly pitched forward.

_It’s okay. You can let go_. Feather-light touches along his cheek. Gentle fingers running through his hair.

Adrian didn’t have the strength to question Garrett. He released his grip on the Primal and the light faded away, leaving a soft glow behind his eye. The sharp ache in his head lessened, replaced by a weariness that left him barely able to focus as he turned to August.

“Adrian, are you alright?”

“M’not sure.”

“When you’re ready, why don’t you get in the bed? You both need rest after that.”

He tried to answer but only managed a grunt. Lying down sounded like an excellent idea. He laid his head on the blanket next to Garrett, his eye falling closed of its own accord.

“Not quite what I meant …” August’s voice drifted away.

 

 

“Don’t wake him. He needs all the rest he can get right now.”

He knew that gentle rumble. Safe. Home.

“I’m not arguing that, but I do think you should wait until he examines the both of you before you get up.”

Something soft under his cheek. A comforting weight, pressed over and around him. Somewhere in the distance a fire crackled, but it held no warmth. He was so cold. Cold and tired. He should sleep. Maybe he’d be warmer there.

“Can’t you do it? Surely he’s taught you that much by now.”

Frustration and worry laced Adrian’s voice. Was something wrong? Was he alright? Sleep whispered to him, tugging him back toward the darkness. He fought the insistent pull. Adrian needed him.

“That’s not the point, Master Adrian.”

His eyelids felt weighted with lead and refused to respond. He persevered and eventually dim gaslight penetrated the darkness surrounding him. A white blur greeted him, rich deep green a little further beyond. He blinked until they resolved into the pillow under his head and the woolen blanket tucked close around him.

“Don’t ‘Master Adrian’ me right now. Leave August alone. If I want to get up and use the bathroom I damn well will. Garrett is the one who’s suffered another attack. I just … got tired.”

He twitched his fingers and watched the blanket folds move in front of his eyes. Not one blanket, but several. How was he still so cold?

A snort. “I still think you should wait for Master August to examine you.”

Frustration welled in his chest, but alien. Not his—Adrian’s. Something was wrong. Garrett blinked again and forced his gaze further, beyond the blanket and up. Adrian sat slumped in the chair next to the bed, wrapped in his bathrobe, one hand supporting his head as he glared up at Reginald, who stood beside him. Reginald glared back, but Garrett caught something else in the set of his jaw. Frustration, yes, but almost bordering on fear. What was he afraid of?

“Adrian, please, for August’s sake. He was beside himself after what happened this afternoon. In the six years I’ve worked with him, I’ve never seen him that upset. He’s not one to panic but after you both collapsed—” Reginald broke off with a sharp shake of his head. “I’ll let him discuss it with you. I’ve said enough.”

Adrian scowled and turned away from Reginald, though Garrett could clearly feel his indecision quivering along the Primal. He glanced toward Garrett and his eye widened.

“You’re awake!”

“I’ll fetch Master August.” Reginald spun about on his heel before Adrian could say otherwise.

Even before the footsteps faded down the hall, Adrian was already shifting in the chair. Adrian couldn’t leave now, not with Reginald so worried. Garrett grabbed for him, worry spiking in his gut. Adrian stilled. Leaning forward, he pried Garrett’s hand away from his arm and held it. Golden warmth suffused the Primal.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Even in the low light Adrian was pale. He kept blinking as if having a hard time focusing and the hand holding Garrett’s had the slightest tremor to it. With the other he rubbed at his eye before raking it through disheveled hair. His typically neat goatee was well on its way to becoming a full beard. How long had it been since Adrian had done anything to take care of himself?

“Reginald said you collapsed. Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that?”

“Adrian …”

“Yes, I am fine.” The lines of worry around Adrian’s eye belied his words as did the accompanying sliver of it through the Primal. He’d managed to scare Adrian once again. In truth he’d scared himself. A shiver caught him off-guard. He’d promised Adrian he’d tell him how he was feeling. Did that include being cold?

“I don’t suppose there is another blanket?”

Adrian grunted and shook his head. “No, you have all of them. Are you still cold?”

Garrett nodded, the ache in his gut sharpening as Adrian glanced over at the bellpull beside his desk. On the other side of the room. If Adrian was going to overreact to everything he said, then Garrett wasn’t sure telling him was a good idea. Adrian already had enough to worry about without him adding to it.

“If August is okay with it then I could get Elsie to bring something up for you.” Adrian squeezed his hand before dropping it. “But there might be something I can do while we’re waiting. I’m sure August wouldn’t mind.”

The chill settled in Garrett’s stomach as Adrian levered himself up out of the chair. “But Reginald said—”

“Reginald worries too much. I’m fine.” Adrian pulled back the edge of the blankets and slid underneath to sit on the edge of the bed. An arm around Garrett’s shoulders lifted him carefully out of the way as Adrian pushed the pillows aside and scooted further back to lean against the headboard. He settled Garrett against himself, one hand coming up to cradle Garrett’s head to his chest. “Does that help?”

Garrett let his eyes fall closed, listening to the steady thrum of Adrian’s heartbeat against his ear. The warmth from Adrian’s body spread through him, a gentle heat to chase away the cold that had gripped him for so long he almost couldn’t remember when he’d last felt truly warm. He nodded again, feeling almost as if he were melting into Adrian’s chest.

“Good.” Garrett didn’t need to see Adrian to hear the smile in his voice.

This warmth around him, the soft golden glow, didn’t just chase away the cold, it eased the lingering worry and soothed the pain in his chest. It reminded him of the feel of lifting the last pin on a complicated tumbler lock, everything falling into place to feel … right. He held his breath as the thought sent a jolt through him and set his stomach fluttering. After a moment of indecision he reached up to grip Adrian’s arm.

“When …”

Adrian’s fingers stilled from where they’d been stroking the nape of his neck. “A little over six hours. It’s Wednesday night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t … didn’t realize what would happen if … I’m sorry.”

“Garrett, please stop apologizing to me. It was an accident. You couldn’t have known it would … what exactly did it do?”

Garrett closed his eyes. He could remember the warning tingle that had shot through his fingers but then everything just went white. Something had happened when he’d focused on the Soul.

“I’m not sure. I was just going to examine it with the Primal. Sometimes it shows me things I can’t see otherwise.”

Adrian nodded. “Those threads, and the blue glow around some things. The Soul was glowing so bright it was blinding, but it wasn’t doing that before. Not that bright.”

“You can see it? The glow? When did that start?” Garrett eased his grip once he realized he’d grabbed Adrian’s shirt. He tilted his head back to look at Adrian’s face, but Adrian seemed to stare right past him, his eye unfocused.

“I’m not sure exactly. After … after Lucien nearly killed you is when I really remember seeing it. I-I had to hold onto your thread. I could feel you fading. Just like last night.”

At the hitch in Adrian’s voice the deep pain returned to settle in Garrett’s chest. He’d never thought that focusing on the Soul would have affected him so badly. He didn’t know what to say to comfort Adrian so he just tightened his grip, feeling Adrian’s return squeeze.

He heard the door open but didn’t look away from Adrian until August sat on the edge of the bed. The bleary eyes behind his glasses and stubble on the normally clean-shaven face surprised Garrett. The fingers August pressed to Garrett’s wrist shook ever so slightly.

“Pulse is normal. Are you willing to let me take your temperature?”

Garrett nodded, somewhat ashamed he’d fought August so much earlier. August’s smile was weak, but genuine.

August held the thermometer out. Garrett reached to take it, uncomfortably aware of how closely August watched him. He dropped his head back on Adrian's chest and let himself drift, clinging to the slow and steady rhythm of the heartbeat under his ear rather than dwell on August's hands as he fussed over him. He was so tired. How could he be this tired? He hadn’t done anything.

“Garrett.”

Garrett opened his eyes as Adrian jostled him gently. From the way August’s brows pinched together it wasn’t the first time he’d called his name.

“I don’t suppose I need to tell you just how lucky you’ve been.” August took the thermometer back and peered at it. “How much do you remember of what happened?”

“Adrian, the Soul. Where is it?”

“It’s here somewhere. I think it fell on the floor. You’re not touching it.”

“I’d rather neither of you handle it for the time being.” August pushed himself to his feet. “I need to understand what happened. Adrian, you mentioned this … Soul? You said it was glowing, but I saw nothing.”

“It got brighter when Garrett held it. Bright enough I could barely look at it. You really couldn’t see anything?”

“It looked like it hurt when you touched it, Adrian. You did something. Something that felt a lot like what Garrett did when he healed your ribs. I had that same tugging sensation. Explain to me what you did.” August slumped in the chair next to the bed, arms slung over the armrests with his legs stretched out before him. It was the most relaxed posture Garrett had ever seen him in, but his eyes were alert, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them.

“It’s the Primal. Whatever that thing is, it reacts to the Primal. It burned when I picked it up, but then it went dark and I could see all the threads. It was a lot stronger than last night.” Adrian rested his cheek on the top of Garrett’s head, the tremor creeping back into his voice. “Garrett’s thread was fading, so I … kind of … used you to feed it.”

August’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he leaned down to retrieve something from the rug at his feet. Garrett ducked his head, burying his face against Adrian’s chest to avoid looking directly at the Soul. Everything had been fine before until he tried to focus on it, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Garrett, are you alright?” Adrian’s arm tightened around him, though the hand stroking his hair remained gentle as ever.

“Just … tired. And dizzy.”

“Worse than before?” Something landed on the nightstand with a soft thud. The mattress dipped, followed by the press of August’s hand to his forehead.

Garrett nodded. It didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to feel this drained.

“You can rest in a minute. But if this has anything to do with the Primal then I need to know what happened. I can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s wrong. You too, Adrian. I need to make sure you’ve recovered from this afternoon. Give me your hand. And put this in your mouth.”

Garrett felt, more than heard, Adrian’s sigh. The hand that had been gently ruffling through his hair disappeared. After a few minutes August’s weight lifted back away from the mattress.

“Well … you seem fine, as far as I can tell. I still want you to rest. It appears using the Primal took a lot out of you.”

Garrett stiffened. The Primal hadn’t taken anything from Adrian; the Soul had given him something. Somewhat like …

“It’s a Leyden jar.” The realization had him wondering why he’d not thought of it sooner. He looked up at August, careful to avoid catching sight of the nightstand.

“What? What’s a Leyden jar?”

“Just a moment, Adrian.” August leaned forward in the chair, his gaze locked on Garrett. “You’re referring to the Soul?”

“Yes.”

August adjusted his glasses and sat back. “Care to elaborate?”

“It discharged Primal energy into Adrian when he touched it. Just like when an electrical contact touches a charged Leyden jar.”

“It’s a battery.”

“After a fashion.” August eyed the Soul with a thoughtful expression. “Batteries discharge energy slowly. This Soul seemed to do so all at once, just like a Leyden jar. You said it felt like it was burning you. But where is it getting the Primal energy from?”

“Me.”

As soon as Garrett spoke he felt Adrian tense. With a growing sense of apprehension he watched August reach toward the nightstand. Something glimmered in the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes and buried his face into Adrian’s shoulder. It was there. All but buried by the exhaustion and waves of dizziness. A barely perceptible tug in the back of his head.

“But it’s glowing again. If I discharged it then why’s it glowing again?” Adrian’s voice crept steadily higher. “It went dark right after I picked it up. Why’s it glowing again now? You haven’t gone anywhere near it.”

Garrett’s fingers clutched at Adrian’s shirt. “After you picked it up. You saw the threads and then it went dark.”

“Y-yes, but it’s—”

“Charging.”

“Then what are you doing?!” Adrian threw his arms around Garrett, as if shielding him from the Soul could make the slightest difference. “Get rid of it! Smash the damn thing. Just get it away from him.”

“No. Wait.” Garrett grabbed for Adrian as everything lurched sideways toward August. “What if that makes everything worse?”

“Worse? Garrett, it’s killing you!”

“What if … what if …” Shaking hands clenched in his hair as his mind raced. Without the Soul there’d be no new eye for Adrian. He couldn’t allow Adrian to destroy it. “There’s … some kind of link. There has to be, else it couldn’t … charge. If that breaks—”

“He’s right,” August cut in with a sigh. “We just don’t know enough. If there’s any kind of backlash then breaking it could easily kill him.”

Warm breath ghosted through his hair as Adrian held him close. “I don’t understand. You said it’s for a client, but where did it even come from? Why would anyone want this?”

“I …” What could he say? “From the Thief-Taker.”

Adrian flinched. “You brought it home with you on Monday. This is why you collapsed Monday night. This is what’s making you sick. Not exhaustion, but this. This … thing.”

“Yes. I’m—”

“Garrett, don’t.” A finger traced the scar down his cheek. “Don’t apologize to me. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

It was Garrett’s turn to flinch as August cleared his throat. “So who is it for? For all intents and purposes it’s useless to most people.”

“Ector wanted it back.”

“Ector? Ector Rothchild the engineer? He wanted it back? Did someone take it from him?” The chair creaked as August leaned forward, all traces of fatigue in his voice swept aside by curiosity.

Garrett struggled not to fidget under the barrage of questions. “Another engineer on the automaton project had taken it.”

“Who?”

Garrett shook his head. “I only know of Ector and Clockwise. The other wasn’t named.”

“Hmm. So Ector hired you to get back a part he needed. No wonder the project has been stalled for weeks. Here I thought he was just giving Ambrose excuses.”

“Blast the project, this thing nearly killed Garrett. We need rid of it.”

“Taking it to Ector seems like the best solution to me. Though I think I’ll keep this downstairs in my office for now.” The loose floorboard creaked as August rounded the end of the bed. “I’ll have Reginald take it over on the first ferry.”

“August, no.” Garrett was careful to keep his eyes closed even as he pushed himself upright. “You can’t do that. If I don’t—”

Unoiled hinges squeaked as August pulled the door open. “Garrett, right now you’d be hard pushed to make it to your feet and out of this room. Do you really expect me to believe you can get as far as Stonemarket by yourself?”

“No. But I don’t have a choice. Ector hired the Master Thief. If Reginald or anyone else delivers it then it links you to me. It puts both you and Adrian at risk.”

“Let me go with you.” Adrian slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back down. “I can carry it for you, and if … if anything happens I’ll get you home.”

August sighed. “Fine. I expect you to keep me fully informed on how you’re feeling. Both of you. As much as it pains me to admit it, there isn’t much more I can do with this Primal involved. If you suffer another attack then I won’t be much help to either of you. Except as an energy source, apparently.”

“That might be enough.”

“Only if you’re conscious.”

Garrett didn’t dare open his eyes until the door clicked shut behind August. He glanced up to find Adrian already looking down at him.

“Valériane might know what to do.”

Adrian stared at him for a moment, eye widening in surprise. “You’re serious? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why—”

“What happens if getting rid of the Soul isn’t enough? What if it keeps charging even after I take it to Ector? You can’t see the threads without it, and once Ector has it …” Garrett swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to die.”

Adrian wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, gentle fingers smoothing over his hair. Garrett closed his eyes as lips pressed to his forehead.

“I won’t let that happen.”

 

 

The soft clink of metal on metal woke him. He raised his head to see Elsie crouched by the fireplace, scraping out the old ashes into a bucket. A tray sat on the low table beside her and the scent of warm milk ghosted by on the chill air. He’d swear he hadn’t made a sound, but she turned almost immediately to catch him watching.

“Didn’t mean to wake you. You feelin’ alright?” Elsie smiled at him and climbed to her feet, wiping her hands on a cloth tucked through the strings of her apron. She carried the tray over and set it on the nightstand beside him, then produced a box of matches to light the candle. “Master August was wanting you to eat something soon as you woke. He said you’d be needin’ it.”

Garrett gingerly peeled back Adrian’s arm flung across his middle and pushed himself upright, relieved when Adrian’s soft snores continued uninterrupted. He kept his head down, both to minimize the dizziness washing over him and to avoid looking at Elsie as she arranged the pillows for him to lean against. How Adrian—or anyone for that matter—could be so comfortable being waited on hand and foot he’d never understand.

Once he was settled she passed him the tray. “Remember to take it slow, just like before. If you need the bathroom, you’re gonna have to wait. Master Adrian left hair all over everything. I can fetch a chamberpot if you want.”

Chamberpot? Garrett blinked at her. Tingling warmth swept across his cheeks and burned his ears.

“I-I can wait.”

“Suit yourself.”

Garrett looked toward the bathroom as an idea hit him. “How much hair is there?”

“More than I thought you had. Though you look, beggin’ your pardon, much nicer with it properly cut.”

“Could you save me some of it?”

Elsie peered at him for a long moment before a smile broke across her face. “Oh! Of course. I’ll gather up everything I can. Give me just a few moments. Can I get you anything else while you’re waiting?”

Garrett shook his head and had to brace himself against the dizziness. The fatigue was already creeping back as well. Even the length of the house didn’t seem to have done much to lessen the Soul’s relentless pull at the back of his mind.

“Okay. You just rest, and I’ll be back with what you need.”

The milky white gruel was warm, but thin and salty. Even a bit of toast would have been better. But it was something, at least. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten.

 

 

Garrett flinched awake as Elsie tugged the empty bowl out of his hands. He hadn’t been aware of dozing off.

“Master August would like you to see if you can manage another in about four hours or so.”

“He’s not going to make me wait days again to eat solid food, is he?”

Elsie shrugged. “He didn’t seem to think so. ‘Pends on you. You rest and do like he says, and you’ll be on your feet in no time.”

He’d already done nothing but lie around for days, and the prospect of being confined even longer had him fidgeting. Garrett pushed the thought aside. He owed August his life several times over, and the least he could do was listen to him. August knew what he was doing.

“I was able to get a fair amount of hair for you, but it’s not as long as I’d hoped. Will you be able to make anything of this? I ain’t got a braiding table like my mother had, but I found some spare embroidery silks you can have.”

Garrett ran his fingers over the brightly colored skeins Elsie had laid out on the tray. Gold thread shone in the candlelight and he picked it up. It would be perfect for what he had in mind. A neat bundle of hair clippings sat beside them. Most of it was far too short to be any use, but some of the strands were just long enough to work with, especially if he mixed some of the gold thread in with it.

“I’ll be seeing Miss Fauvre tomorrow. If you’re feelin’ up to visitors I’ll ask her to call on you.”

Garrett rubbed the soft-stranded thread between his fingers as Elsie left him in peace. He still wasn’t ready to forgive Valériane for what she’d allowed to happen, to him and Adrian both. But she might be his only chance right now.

“Thank you.”  


 

 

Soft snoring and gentle breaths on the back of his neck brought Garrett fully awake. He slowly stretched, flexing limbs that felt as though they’d been still far too long. Even the small movement left him lightheaded. It faded after a moment, but weariness had already settled over him. No matter how much he slept he couldn’t shake it. He glanced over to the dark shape of Adrian’s journal on the nightstand beside him. Adrian hadn’t said a word about it, other than to make certain Garrett saw him lay it out. The braid lay tucked safely between its pages. Between the false starts and dozing off it had taken him much longer than he thought it would, and the candle had burned to a stub long before he’d added the finishing touches.

Adrian slept curled around him like a protective wall. This wasn’t something Adrian could protect him from. Either taking the Soul to Ector would get him out of its range, or it wouldn’t. And if Valériane’s Master couldn’t help him … Something quivered in him at the thought. He’d doomed himself as surely as Northcrest had. He should have known better than to mess with anything Primal-related. He _did_ know better. But … Adrian needed the eye, and this had been the only way to get it for him. He just hoped he lived long enough to see Adrian get it. Though with nothing else for him to focus on, the constant tugging from the Soul inside his head raised doubts that only grew stronger the more he tried to push them away. Was this what the Queen of Beggars had tried to warn him about? It was too late now.

Garrett shifted around to face Adrian, careful to avoid waking him. Hesitant at first, he reached up to brush the hair back from Adrian’s face. The scar didn’t look quite so bad in the pale rosy light spilling around the edges of the curtains. He traced his fingers over the jagged line down Adrian’s cheek.

Unbidden, his fingers moved down to splay along the side of Adrian’s face, his thumb smoothing over the stubble on his jaw. Adrian mumbled in his sleep, eyelid flickering open for a brief moment. At the sight of the smile tugging at Adrian’s lips, Garrett found it impossible to hold back one of his own. When had a simple smile from Adrian come to mean so much? He couldn’t remember anything ever having such a strong hold on him. This wasn’t like the rush he got when he pulled off a challenging theft. That always faded, leaving him anxious for the next challenge. This hadn’t faded. If anything, it—whatever _it_ was—had only grown stronger. If only he had more time.

Flutters surged in Garrett’s middle and shot warmth through him. He leaned forward, uncertain exactly what it was he intended. The impulse to do _something_ was stronger than any he’d felt from thieving. Tingles cascaded through him as he lightly touched his lips to Adrian’s. The Primal sparked, silver and gold shooting through him. Something almost seemed to rupture in his chest, leaving behind a sweet ache. He pulled back, worried he’d woken Adrian, but the only response was another soft snore.

Face burning and heart thumping, Garrett smiled and shifted closer so he could tuck his head under Adrian’s chin. He didn’t understand what any of this meant, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to understand. Right now he was warm and comfortable, and had nothing better to do than lie here and listen to Adrian’s heartbeat.


	27. Chapter 27

“General? General Barbeaux?”

August jerked upright in his chair. The sudden movement knocked off his glasses, eliciting a sleepy meow from the warm lump curled in his lap. He blinked up at the blurry figure in front of his desk as he patted around for his glasses, inadvertently dislodging Ferdinand in the process. By the time he’d fumbled them back on, Ferdinand had removed himself to the middle of his desk and was fixing him with an accusing stare.

He scratched Ferdinand behind the ear by way of apology. “Captain Leonard. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Captain Leonard glanced around the room, shifting his grip on the shallow box tucked under his arm. “Actually, I had some free time. I can wait if you like. It’s just ... I brought the Montonessis you asked for.”

“Good. I have an appraiser coming to look at them.”

“From the museum?”

“Er … no. He works with private collectors.” August avoided looking at Captain Leonard, instead busying himself with shooing Ferdinand off his paperwork and gathering up the scattered files he’d been working on when he’d fallen asleep. He needed to go check on Garrett and Adrian, though either Elsie or Reginald would have woken him if he was needed urgently. Once he had a spot cleared on his desk he gestured to it. “You can leave them here. I’ll take care of them.”

When there was no immediate response he looked up. Captain Leonard had his head cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised and a slight smile on his lips.

“What?”

“With all due respect, sir, you don’t keep any household guards. I’d like to leave Mortimer and Henri with you.”

August frowned. That would be an issue. “They’ll have to make do with sleeping in the library.”

“Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two around the books.” Captain Leonard came forward to drop the box on the desk with a thump. “General—August, are you feeling alright? You look like someone beat the tallow out of you.”

August reached for some platitude to discourage further questioning only to be interrupted.

“Don’t take me for one of those fogskull lieutenants. I can tell you’re exhausted. Where’s Adrian? I thought he was going to be helping you.”

“He’s asleep. He was up most of the night helping me with a patient.” August closed his eyes for a moment as he fought back the surge of bile rising in his throat. The last he’d checked Adrian was sleeping, but Reginald said he’d felt well enough to argue over having to stay in bed. He still couldn’t shake the fear that had gripped him when Adrian collapsed. It should have been obvious, but he hadn’t even stopped to consider what it would cost Adrian to save Garrett. He should have known. They all knew how badly it affected Garrett to use the Primal—how could he have failed to realize the same applied to Adrian? August shook his head. He couldn’t risk making the same mistake again. He had to take better care of them both. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes to find Captain Leonard watching him closely.

“Another late night for you as well, then? I can stay and help with the orders and reports. You should go get some rest.”

“I …” August started to refuse, but he really could use the help. And the rest. There’d be no reason for the Captain to venture upstairs, and Garrett was in no state to come down. “I would appreciate that.”

It was only after he’d locked the paintings away and left Captain Leonard with the piles of paperwork that August realized he was still in his nightclothes. He nodded to the Watchman sitting outside his office—Mortimer or Henri, he wasn’t sure which—and hurried up the stairs. Such a lapse in decorum. He never left his room without being fully dressed. He’d been so tired last night—or was it this morning—but the reports were piling up and he’d only intended to tackle a few before going to bed. He reached his room and shut the door behind him, cheeks burning. As he went about dressing he ran through a mental checklist of things that needed attending to. Captain Leonard would take care of the reports, which meant he could focus on Garrett. Perhaps even get to some of the other tasks he’d been neglecting.

Reginald had dragged the chair back over as close to the fire as possible, and sat with a blanket over his knees and a mug of tea cradled between his palms. His tired smile and bloodshot eyes had August wondering if he looked the same. They were all exhausted from the constant vigil. And not only from losing sleep, but from worry as well. August didn’t dare relax. Not until they were safely free of the Soul and he could be certain that Garrett was recovering. They knew so little of how the Primal worked that he couldn’t risk any mistakes. The last few days had pushed them all to their limits in many respects.

At first glance it didn’t seem as if Garrett were here at all. All he could see was the great lump that was Adrian. August frowned at Reginald. He’d made it clear Garrett shouldn’t be allowed up.

Reginald seemed to read his thoughts. “He’s awake but I think he’s cold.”

It wasn’t until August approached the side of the bed to peer over Adrian that he caught sight of Garrett nestled as close to Adrian as possible, all but buried beneath Adrian’s greater bulk.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

August expected silence or the usual evasion so to get an actual reply surprised him.

“Hungry. Are you sure Adrian’s lost weight? I can’t shift him.” Garrett’s voice, though muffled by the blankets, had more strength to it than August had heard in some time.

“Has he gone mother hen on you?” August smiled, the gesture feeling unusual, as if he’d gone ages without a smile.

Garrett pulled the blankets down and nodded. He pushed at Adrian’s shoulder, but succeeded only in pressing himself deeper into the mattress. Adrian muttered something incomprehensible before the snoring resumed. Some of the tight knot in August’s middle eased as he walked around to Garrett’s side of the bed. Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress he pressed the back of his hand to Garrett’s forehead. “Any headache? Dizziness?”

“Some dizziness.” Garrett shifted, his expression twisting. “Can I …” His gaze darted to the bathroom door then back to August. If he’d eaten enough of the gruel to pass water that was a good sign.

“Let me check a few things, first.”

It wasn’t easy maneuvering around Adrian to check Garrett over, but he had to be sure before agreeing to anything. Everything looked good on the surface. Even the slight fever from before had subsided. He grabbed Adrian’s shoulder and shook him roughly. Adrian gave a snort and opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times and then jerked up.

“August! Is he …”

August patted his shoulder. “Everything is fine. You’re just smothering Garrett.”

“Sorry.” Adrian grimaced and scooted back to his own side. “Are you alright, Garrett?”

Garrett turned to Adrian, his expression softer than any August had ever seen. “I’m alright. You don’t have to brood.”

Was he … teasing Adrian? August let out a chuckle as he realized what Garrett had said. “Indeed. Adrian, you stay put. I need to check you while Reginald helps Garrett.”

It took a little shuffling about, but once Reginald safely had Garrett and they’d disappeared into the bathroom August turned back to Adrian.

“Now, how are you feeling? And if you tell me you’re fine I’ll slap you.”

Adrian wrinkled his nose and let out a sigh as he rolled onto his back, one hand fisted in his hair. “I’m still tired. Everything aches. Like I spent all yesterday up in the rigging fighting gale force winds. Is this what it’s like for him every time? He’s never said it felt anything like this.”

“I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know, Adrian. You’ll have to ask Garrett. Any headache? Dizziness?” August held out the thermometer.

“Not so much a headache, no.” Adrian fell quiet, staring up at the ceiling with a pensive look on his face.

August waited patiently, not about to push him. He’d have bet his instruments it had to do with Garrett. Once the time was up he took back the thermometer. No fever either. Good. He wasn’t about to take any chances, but as far as he could tell, Adrian would be fine. The swell of relief left him lightheaded and he quickly sat back down on the edge of the mattress in the hope Adrian hadn’t noticed. He took Adrian’s left hand and began unwinding the bandage. Adrian watched without saying anything as he carefully checked the stitches and made certain the cuts were healing. August replaced the bandage with a fresh one, taking his time as he waited for Adrian to say what was bothering him.

“Yesterday … it was yesterday, wasn’t it?” Adrian glanced at him for confirmation. “Yesterday Garrett told me he’s been deliberately keeping himself awake.”

“For how long?”

“At least a week.”

A week? Considering that Garrett wasn’t in the best of condition as it was, having lasted as long as a week with minimal sleep said much for his willpower and determination.

“Did he say why?”

Adrian took a deep breath, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “Me.”

“What? I don’t follow.”

Adrian shook his head and gestured in the direction of the bathroom. “The … link between us. It goes both ways. He feared his nightmares would put me in danger at work.”

“What a pair you are.” August finished putting his things away. “You’re going to drive me to an early grave between the two of you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

Having forgotten to tuck his usual handkerchief into his vest pocket August resorted to polishing his glasses on the hem of his shirt. As always the little ritual was soothing, helping him think through the problem. “Garrett certainly didn’t do himself any favors by exhausting himself and he probably succumbed sooner because of it. But if this Soul is draining him the way he says, then it was only a matter of time before he collapsed regardless.”

“Then why are you smiling? This isn’t funny, August. He’s been hurting himself.”

“Forgive me.” August settled his glasses back on his nose. He met Adrian’s irritated glare as he tugged his vest down to cover his untucked shirt. “I don’t mean to make light of anything. But this is the best possible thing you could have told me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ri, think about it. This explains how Garrett was acting Monday evening. If he kept himself awake deliberately then of course he was lethargic and distant when you found him. He was exhausted. Frankly, I’m amazed he was still on his feet at all. If what you’re saying is true, then there was no invading attack before you arrived home. This rules out ingravescent apoplexy.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“Most likely my original diagnosis. Apoplexia exsanguinea—bloodless apoplexy.” August glanced over at the bathroom door, his smile widening as the knot in his stomach eased. “Provided the underlying cause is dealt with, it’s treatable. I can help him.”

“The Soul.” Adrian bolted upright, gaze fixed on him.

August nodded, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Find a way to break its hold over Garrett before he suffers another attack, and he’ll recover. Why don’t you come downstairs and eat a bite? I’m not sure if Garrett will be quite up to anything more than gruel for a while.”

“He’s going to hate that.”

“Which is why you aren’t going to eat in front of him.”

 

 

The sunset glowed orange over the rooftops as Adrian pulled the curtains closed. Snow still clung in drifts to the shadowed spaces but the majority had melted to slush or blown away. It would make their trip easier, and he needed everything to go as smoothly as possible for Garrett tonight. The Soul was glowing again. It already seemed brighter since August locked it away last night, though it was hard to tell for sure or by how much. Maybe the distance between his bedroom and August’s office wasn’t far enough to lessen the Soul’s effects. But Ector’s workshop was halfway across the City. They just had to hope that it would be far enough. The damn thing was wrapped up tight and waiting in a secure box downstairs. They couldn't risk Garrett touching or even seeing it in case it made him sick again. It might not do much to prevent the Soul from charging at Garrett's expense, but he'd try anything if it had even the slightest chance of staving off another attack.

He crossed over to the bed and tugged the blankets back. Garrett had curled himself around one of the spare pillows, scrunched as tight as possible in an effort to keep himself warm. He’d been drifting in and out of sleep all day. Adrian would have worried, but August was adamant it was a good sign and to leave him to it. He smoothed his hand over Garrett’s hair and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to get up.”

It took a few more minutes before Garrett finally blinked up at him. Adrian smiled as he pried the pillow out of Garrett’s hands. “It’s getting late. August says we have to go down the back stairs. Captain Leonard is in his office helping with the paperwork and there’s a Watchman milling around in the front hallway.”

Garrett nodded, something that could almost be described as a smile ghosting across his face. He reached for Adrian’s arm and pulled himself up, fingers clamping down hard as he braced himself with eyes screwed shut. Adrian winced but said nothing as he slid his free arm around Garrett to hold him steady until the dizziness faded.

Adrian started to help him out of the bed when Garrett tugged at his sleeve. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”

Adrian looked down at himself. Silk vest, wool trousers and linen shirt with silk tie. What he’d normally wear to go out. He hadn’t put his shoes on just yet or done his hair.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Do I call you Master Adrian or Mi’lord?”

“Wha— ah shit, I see your point. Too dressy?”

“Too everything. You’ll have every blackhand in Stonemarket after us. Think less dinner party and more dock worker.”

“I think I can manage that,” Adrian said with a chuckle. He pulled Garrett’s leathers out of the wardrobe and piled them on the bed next to him. “Do you want help getting ready?”

“I think I can dress myself.”

“Alright. I’m going to go ask Elsie if she’s still got some of those old things she wanted for cleaning rags.”

By the time he returned with the bundle of ragged clothes Garrett was already dressed. He sat on the bed holding what looked like scraps of leather, a disgusted look on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s ruined. I thought—I thought I was fixing it, but it’s totally ruined.”

“Okay … what is it?” The distress in Garrett’s voice threw Adrian. He dropped the bundle of clothing onto the bed, his fingers already itching to fix whatever could have Garrett so upset.

“My climbing harness. When I … when I was trying to keep awake I tried to fix it. But,” he held up the strips of leather for Adrian to see, “I ruined it. I can’t use this.”

Adrian took the harness, or what was left of it. The harness was laced through randomly-spaced ragged holes gouged into the leather along each edge. Most were punched into the reinforced sections but others cut through the stitching, leaving frayed ends that threatened to unravel. Some had torn completely, the laces hanging loose. It clearly wouldn’t hold even Garrett’s slight weight.

“Can’t you just leave it off? You’re not going to be using it.”

Garrett took it back with a grimace. “I’d rather not. Ector knows what I look like. If something’s changed he’ll notice.”

“Okay, what can I do to help?”

Between the two of them they managed to relace the harness through its original eyelets and get it on without it falling to pieces.

“It won’t last long.”

“I need to make a new one. But the Thief-Taker broke all my tools. They’re still in the clock tower.”

“Let’s just get through tonight. We can figure something out tomorrow.”

As he changed into the threadbare clothes Elsie had given him, Adrian wondered if the attic would make a good space for Garrett. He’d have to talk to August about it. There was more than enough room up there to build a workshop.

If Garrett chose to stay.

Adrian forced himself away from that line of thinking. Garrett was here now and needed his help now. He had to focus on that.

 

By the time they’d made their way down the hill to the dock where the _Nightshade_ was berthed Garrett had slowed considerably. Adrian let him set the pace. He’d much rather this trip take all night than force Garrett to wear himself out trying to do too much too soon. He was keeping his feet, more or less, but listed to the side each time Adrian let him go. After one stumble too many Adrian wrapped his arm around Garrett and held him close as they walked.

Adrian regretted not bringing his own heavy coat, or even a pair of gloves. He wished he could at least tuck his hand into the pocket of the old motheaten greatcoat Reginald had unearthed from storage up in the attic, but he had to carry the box with the Soul under one arm, keeping the other around Garrett to steady him. He’d been unwilling to forego the sturdy boots that went with his Captain’s uniform so his feet at least weren’t freezing, but it made him all the more aware of just how little protection Garrett’s thin leather soles offered him. He knew it made sense—flexibility and grip were far more important to Garrett—but iced-over cobbles like this had to be painful. No wonder Garrett hated the cold.

_I told you I don’t normally leave the clock tower during the winter._

Winters must be even more bitter in the clock tower, so high up and with nothing to block the wind from whistling through missing tiles and glassless windows. At least he had Garrett staying with him for now while it was still so cold. Hopefully longer. Or was that asking for too much? Should he bring it up to Garrett? He’d mentioned it once before, but … it might be best to leave it for now. They had other concerns at the moment.

They made it to the dock, leaving just the narrow steep steps to the water level where the skiff should be waiting for them. Seeing how tightly Garrett clung to his arm and to the railing as they descended the steps Adrian was tempted to pick him up. But he couldn’t carry Garrett and hold the Soul at the same time, and Garrett definitely was not holding the Soul. He had Garrett stop for a moment and positioned himself in front. If Garrett lost his footing he’d at least be there to catch him. Once they reached the skiff Adrian held it steady for Garrett to climb in. He already seemed exhausted, slumping to the boards and huddling in the corner where the narrow seat met the gunwale. Adrian started to ask how he was, but decided against it. The answer was obvious. He found a tarp folded under his seat and shook it out to wrap around Garrett.

It was even colder out on the water. By the time he’d rowed them to the middle of the river Adrian shivered even as the exertion had him sweating. Garrett had pulled the tarp up over his head to block the wind. It felt like ages before the skiff gently bumped against the pier and Adrian could draw up the oars. His fingers had gone numb and he swore ice was forming in his goatee. Hands stiff with the cold it took several tries to get the rope secured around the nearest post. He was careful to set the box with the Soul on the worn damp wood well away from the water’s edge before turning back to retrieve Garrett.

If he hadn’t known Garrett was in the boat he’d have just thought someone had carelessly abandoned the tarp. He knelt and pulled the corner back. Garrett’s eyes were closed, his head propped against the gunwale at what had to be an uncomfortable angle.

“Garrett.”

No response. Worry shot through him, sending his stomach roiling even as his heart seemed to thud to a halt. Before he’d thought about what he was doing, he’d grabbed Garrett by the shoulders and was shaking him. Garrett yelped and flailed, a hand catching Adrian across the face.

“Garrett, it’s me! It’s me.” Adrian held him a moment longer to make certain Garrett knew where he was. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Are you alright?”

Garrett frowned at him. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I panicked.” It was a flimsy excuse for being so rough and he knew it. “Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m certainly awake now.”

“Well, we’re here,” he said as he gently helped Garrett disentangle himself from the tarp. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

“It’s cold.”

“Yes, all the more reason to hurry up.”

After a bit more grumbling he coaxed Garrett out of the skiff and up the steps to the dock. Once the Stonemarket streets closed in around them it felt marginally warmer, the buildings blocking the worst of the gusts sweeping upriver from the sea. They encountered no one as they made their way through the alleys. Even the beggars seemed to have decided it was too late and too cold to be out. Many of the buildings were dark, with no smoke coming from the chimneys. The encroaching darkness pressed closer about them, the pools of light around the streetlamps seeming further and further apart. A shiver ran through Adrian, for once owing nothing to the cold. Without the comforting weight of his sword at his side he felt more exposed than if he’d stripped bare to walk down the street. If any of those freakish monsters were lying in wait, he’d be helpless. He wouldn’t be able to protect them—they wouldn’t even be able to run, with Garrett like this. He forced himself to focus on Garrett, slowing his breathing to match Garrett’s deliberate measured steps. He wasn’t about to upset Garrett by panicking about what might be hiding in the dark.

At last they turned a corner and the glowing face of the clock tower came into view through a break in the rooftops. They were nearly there and this would be over soon. Relief rushed through him as he scolded himself for fretting like some fearful child over monsters in the dark. A flickering yellow glow moved in one of the high windows to the side of the clock face. Adrian stared up at it, not realizing he’d almost stopped until Garrett tugged at his arm to keep moving. Was someone up there with a lantern? The climbing ropes Garrett had rigged from the scaffolding to the window were swaying, though he couldn’t be sure if they moved from the wind or if someone had disturbed them. Adrian glanced at Garrett but his head was down, too focused on keeping his feet to pay attention to their surroundings. He’d have to investigate later. If someone had learned Garrett’s lair hadn’t been abandoned following the raid, then the clock tower may no longer be safe for Garrett to return home.

 

 

Garrett reluctantly left Adrian at the top of the steps leading down into the Gullet. Other than loitering conspicuously at the landing halfway down, there was nowhere closer for Adrian to wait that wouldn’t be visible from Ector’s workshop. At first Garrett had thought Adrian wasn’t going to let go of the box that held the Soul, his worried look further compounded by anxious needles spiking through the Primal.

Now Garrett held it gingerly between his fingertips as he eased down the steps, bracing his shoulder against the brickwork to help keep his balance. Thankfully they were shallow and easy to manage. He’d rather not end up falling before he even got to Ector’s. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again if he did.

A soft yellow light glowed in the window of Ector’s Emporium, just enough to light the steps to the door but left the rest of the area in darkness. Something to be grateful for at least. No one would see his painfully slow progress across the yard at the base of the steps. As he shuffled for the workshop he tried to ignore the Soul’s tug at the back of his mind. The sooner he was free of it the better. As he reached the door he glanced over his shoulder to the archway hiding the steps back up to the street. The angle of the steps hid Adrian from sight, but he didn’t need to see him to feel his steadying presence through the Primal. Knowing Adrian was close by eased some of the aches in his muscles. If anything happened all he had to do was call for help. It was years since he’d last had that kind of reassurance on a job. Not since he and Erin parted ways.

Garrett could hear Ector ranting even before he opened the door. He squinted against the electric light bathing the workshop, painfully bright after the darkness outside. Just a few more moments and he’d be free of the Soul. With trembling hands he set the box on the workbench, not caring of the stacks of paperwork he’d disturbed. He had to grab the edge of the bench to keep himself upright as his knees nearly gave out. Just that short walk and already he could barely stand. Frustration bubbled up in him and he shoved it down. It was his own fault.

“What’s this? Is it … is it …” Ector snatched up the box and fumbled with the clasp. Garrett hastily looked away from the blue glow spilling over Ector’s hands as he lifted the lid. “Ah, well done! Well done indeed, Master Thief. But I expected you days ago.”

“Is it the Soul?”

Garrett jerked at the second voice and nearly lost his hold on the bench. He tightened his grip, uncomfortably aware that little else prevented him from crashing to the floor. He glanced sharply to his right where an unfamiliar figure leaned over a set of automaton blueprints spread out across the far end of the workbench. The military camber helmet seemed rather out of place. Its metal brim overshadowed the angular face just enough to hide his eyes, though Garrett had no doubt they were trained on him. The expressionless gaze burned right through him and even with his hood and mask up he felt horribly exposed. His skin crawled with the need to flee. How had he failed to notice Ector wasn’t alone?

“And already part charged. Most obliging.” The nasal whine grated against Garrett’s ears. He couldn’t immediately place the accent.

Garrett let out an involuntary gasp and shudder as the piercing gaze raked him from head to foot. He flinched and took a step back from the workbench. He had to go. Now.

“There is still the matter of payment.” Ector dropped the lid shut on the box and set it to the side.

Garrett swallowed and nodded, the motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. It was only through sheer force of will that he kept his feet. He owned nothing Ector might want. He couldn’t even ask Adrian for money to pay for the eye, not without first admitting why he needed it.

“Baron Northcrest was working on a new reactor design before those Graven ruffians broke in and destroyed everything. I need his blueprints. You should find them in his laboratory under the manor.”

That was it? Break into the new Watch headquarters and steal a set of blueprints that may or may not exist anymore? Garrett nodded again and started to ease toward the door, taking slow measured steps to avoid making himself dizzy again. If he remembered correctly from the last time he was there, the lower floors of the manor had taken the worst damage from the fire. But Northcrest’s laboratory had been hidden deep below the secret door from the ceremony room. There was a chance the fire wouldn’t have spread so far underground. Maybe he could use the sewer entrance he’d used before in his escape from the Thief-Taker. He didn’t relish the thought of crawling through wet and freezing sewer tunnels, but it would avoid the risk of being caught by the Watch if he didn’t have to set foot in the manor at all.

“Oh, and Master Thief,” Ector waited until Garrett had stopped at the door before continuing, “I can’t wait so long this time. I need those blueprints as soon as possible.”

Garrett dipped his head in acknowledgement and let himself out. He pulled the door shut behind him and sagged against it, head dropping to the doorframe with a thud. Cold air burned his throat and lungs as he took several deep breaths. It was done. Nothing left but to make it back home. Trailing a hand along the brickwork to steady himself, Garrett picked his way across the yard. Easy and shallow they may have been on the way down, the Gullet steps had never looked so long or so steep.

Twenty steps to the landing. Only twenty. He could manage twenty steps. He took a deep breath to steady himself, braced a shoulder against the wall, and began to climb.

Ten steps and the stairwell wavered around him. He pressed his full weight against the wall and screwed his eyes shut until the step was solid again under his feet. Only ten left. Ten was nothing. A burning numbness in his legs made it difficult to start moving again, each step higher and steeper than the last.

Five. He very nearly called to Adrian, but couldn’t risk someone overhearing him. Just five more steps and he’d be to the landing where Adrian could see him.

His foot struck air instead of stone. He stumbled forward, grabbing for the wall to catch himself, knees threatening to buckle and head spinning. Opening his eyes a crack he realized he’d finally reached the landing. He clung to the wall, breath coming in short gasps as he waited for the world to settle around him. Adrian trotted down to meet him, worry stabbing sharp through the Primal.

“Did it go okay?”

“I—I think so. He has it now.”

“Good. Let’s get home.”

“Adrian, wait.” At least his voice wasn’t shaking as bad as his legs. Letting go the wall he latched onto Adrian’s arm and leaned into his solid warmth. “Can we … I need to sit down.”

A burst of—something—shot through the Primal and prickled along the back of his neck. Surprise? Pride? Neither seemed quite close enough. The needling worry grew sharper still, almost verging on fear.

“There’s a crate right across the street.”

Garrett lifted his head to see where Adrian was pointing. The crate all but skirted the throw of light from the nearest streetlamp. Stonemarket was deserted, but staying out in the open like that was begging for trouble.

“Ah, right. Stay right here while I find one with a bit more cover.”

Adrian strode up the steps to the street, his ragged greatcoat flapping about his waist. With his threadbare clothing and blond hair hanging loose across his shoulders he reminded Garrett of a scarecrow, like the ones he’d seen in paintings and picture books. Though more handsome. Adrian disappeared into the shadows a little way along the street, the heavy clomping from his boots betraying any attempt at stealth he might have been making.

A yelp, a series of thuds and a clatter.

“I’m okay!”

Adrian reappeared a few moments later, one hand rubbing at his backside. “I found one. It’s not far, but you’ll want to be careful. Those steps are slick.”

All but hanging from Adrian’s arm, Garrett fought to keep his feet from catching on every step as they emerged from the Gullet. He’d already confessed to needing help and Adrian had more than enough to worry about. Despite his best efforts, by the time they made it across the street Adrian wasn’t so much holding him steady as dragging him. The crate sat at the bottom of a short flight of steps, tucked into a corner that offered shelter from the wind and shadows deep enough to avoid immediate notice from anyone passing. Two scuffmarks marred the otherwise untrampled snow at the base of the steps, carving twin paths across to where two milk churns lay overturned in front of a boarded-over doorway. Garrett briefly wondered if the occupants had fled or died. Too much had changed and Stonemarket no longer felt like home.

Adrian steadied him as he climbed onto the crate and shuffled backward until he could lean back against the cold brickwork. Warmth settled against his legs and he opened his eyes again to see that Adrian had taken off his coat and spread it over him. Something soft burgeoned in his chest at how considerate Adrian was of him, but he couldn’t shake the unease that quickly followed. As usual Adrian was taking care of him at his own expense. Before he could think too much and talk himself out of it, he scooted further into the corner to leave most of the crate free.

“Sit with me.”

Adrian gave a short nod and gingerly took a seat on the edge of the crate. Garrett pulled at his arm until Adrian shifted closer. Once they were shoulder to shoulder he readjusted the coat to drape it across the both of them. Finally able to relax, he felt the fatigue dragging him down as if someone had weighted his bones with lead. He could still feel the Soul pulling at the back of his mind, nearly imperceptible, but undeniably there. Brushing a hand across his eyes he fought to swallow back the dismay before it could show on his face. They were still so close to Ector’s workshop, he couldn’t have expected the Soul’s effects to subside so soon. He tried to focus instead on Adrian, letting the golden warmth wash over him. Adrian wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

“Are you okay?” Anxiety laced the question.

“I … I don’t know.” Garrett pulled his legs up and hugged them to his chest, burying his face in Adrian’s coat. The coarse wool scratched at his cheek and helped distract him from the hot ache in his throat. Why hadn’t he listened to August sooner? He could have saved himself and Adrian so much pain. So many times he’d been stupid and stubborn. For what? To protect himself? To stay aloof and apart?

_Like it or not, this city and its people define you, Garrett._

He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes as her voice echoed in his ears. The Queen of Beggars had warned him. So many times she’d warned him. But just like she’d said, he never stopped to actually listen. Erin nearly died, all because he hadn’t listened. He couldn’t keep just thinking only of himself. Every one of his mistakes hurt others too. Erin. Basso. Adrian.

Especially Adrian.

The blueprints. Ector wanted paid or there’d be no new eye for Adrian. How was he supposed to do that now? Just bringing the Soul to Ector had left him shivering in a corner, barely able to walk without Adrian’s help. He’d been a reckless fool over the Harlan job—to even think of taking another would be suicide.

He had no way to know how long they’d have together before the next attack, the next time the Soul drained him dry. Adrian had saved him twice already—had saved him so many times in so many ways that he’d lost count—but the next time there’d be no Primal to pull him back from the edge. He understood now how badly it would devastate Adrian to watch him die, even if he couldn’t comprehend why. Might not ever. But if it would hurt Adrian anything like how it had hurt in Leiston when he saw Adrian hanged … he’d do anything to never feel that again. The swell of determination caught him off-guard and he quickly shoved it down before it could take root. It was a fool’s hope. There was nothing he could do. He’d be fortunate to survive the week.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s cold.” Garrett kept his head down, avoiding Adrian’s attempts to catch his eye. Adrian always knew when something was wrong—he’d know he was lying. He couldn’t handle the thought of Adrian knowing he’d broken his promise so soon.

“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Must be that thick bear hide of yours.”

“You could use some thick hide of your own. Leather that thin can’t be very warm. If your cloak isn’t warm enough I’ll have the tailor make you a better one.”

“It's fine, there's no need. I don’t make a habit of sitting on crates out in the open.”

“So where do you make a habit of sitting if you need a place to hide for a bit?” Adrian tugged Garrett’s cloak closer around him and slipped his hands inside to take hold of Garrett’s. The gentle chafing helped unstiffen his fingers.

Garrett nodded in the direction of the wall opposite. “See that grate?”

“Yes. You mean … in there. You fit in there?”

“There’s more room inside than it looks.”

“For you, maybe.” Adrian paused then lowered his voice. “What is it really, Garrett? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Garrett turned to look up at him. Forced himself to take in everything he’d done to Adrian in the few short months they’d known each other. The eyepatch. The scars. The hollow cheeks. Lines left behind by worry and pain. He gripped Adrian’s hands, stilling their motion, rubbing his thumb lightly over Adrian’s bandaged knuckles. Pulling one hand free he reached up to trace his fingers over the scar showing below the eyepatch. The scars might be fading but the memories remained painfully fresh. The hot tightness in his throat spread, blurring his vision. He let his hand drop to Adrian’s chest, coming to rest over the scar he knew lay under Adrian’s shirt. Matching his own.

“Garrett, please. What is wrong? Talk to me.”

He shook his head, unable to answer. He’d come so far, only to fail. He couldn’t finish the job. Couldn’t put right the one mistake he regretted most. Adrian let go of his hand and wrapped both arms around him, hugging him close.

“I know you are scared and hurting, but I don’t know why. Please talk to me.” The whispered words had Garrett squeezing his eyes shut, the sharp pang in his chest almost enough to distract him from the heat of tears on his cheeks.

“Adrian.” It was all he could get out.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Trust me.”

He did. He trusted Adrian more than anyone. Face buried against Adrian’s shoulder he struggled to take deep breaths. He wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in that warm embrace, but with August keeping so close a vigil over him this might be the last moment they’d have alone together. He had to make the most of it. Pulling away from Adrian, he fumbled for the twist of paper he’d hidden inside his left bracer.

“Here.”

Garrett didn’t dare look up as he held out the paper. Adrian was oddly subdued, but took it and opened it. The sharp gasp and lurch in the Primal set Garrett’s head spinning.

“You made this? For me?” Adrian’s voice was strained.

Garrett nodded.

“It’s beautiful, and thank you. But this … isn’t—” Adrian stared down at the small braid resting in his palm. The hair clippings had been far too short for Garrett to make something even close to resembling Rylan’s. The best he could manage was coiling tightly-braided strands of his hair into small loops, woven together into an intricate chain with Elsie’s gold embroidery silk threaded through the center to bind it all in place. “This is a memento mori. I have one for Rylan.”

“I know.”

Adrian jerked against him. “You know? Garrett, why would you make this?”

“I wanted you to have it. In case—”

The hug crushed all the air out of his lungs.

“Red Jenny’s tears! August didn’t tell you? You’re going to be okay.” A shudder ran through Garrett as Adrian’s hand slid up his spine to cradle the back of his head and press it into his shoulder. “As soon as you’re free of the Soul then August says he can help you.”

Scarcely able to breathe, Garrett was soon seeing stars. With Adrian’s grip pinning his arms he ought to feel trapped, but even as everything tinged grey at the edges he couldn’t bring himself to demand Adrian let go. Gingerly, not quite sure how to respond, he twisted his fingers into Adrian’s shirt and hung on. He wanted to believe Adrian, but August couldn’t stop the Soul from charging. What if Stonemarket to Auldale wasn’t far enough? Did the Soul even have a range?

“This buys us time to come up with something. Valériane will help us. She’ll have an answer to getting the Soul’s hooks out of you.” Adrian loosened his grip as he leaned back, ducking his head a little to look Garrett in the eye. The tear tracks down his cheek glistened in the dim light and Garrett’s fingers itched to wipe them away. “Do you hear me? You are not dying on me. I won’t let you. Not while I have any say about it.”

Garrett only wished he could be so certain. Just the idea of leaving Adrian had bile rising in his throat, but if Valériane had no answers then no amount of wishing would save him. There’d be nothing Adrian could do.

Adrian slipped his hands inside Garrett’s hood, brushing away the dampness from beneath his eyes and pulling his head up. Still caught in Adrian’s palm, the braid scratched at his cheek. “I love that you thought to make me this. But please don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know. Don’t apologize. It’s alright. You are alright.” Adrian pushed Garrett’s hood back and leaned down to rest his cheek against the top of Garrett’s head. His breath ruffled Garrett’s hair, spilling warm tingles down the back of his neck. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. Seeing you like this terrifies me. But I’m not giving up, and I’m not letting you give up either. You’re going to be okay.”

Garrett let go of Adrian’s shirt and reached up to comb his fingers through Adrian’s hair, brushing the loose strands back behind his ear. Adrian let out a soft sigh and leaned into his touch. Wrapping his arms around Garrett he let his head fall heavy onto Garrett’s shoulder. Instead of dragging him down, Adrian’s weight resting against him made him feel safe. Warm. Wanted.


End file.
